


Ink and Blood

by kateofallpeople



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Broken Engagement, Doctor/Patient, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 39,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateofallpeople/pseuds/kateofallpeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hadn't St. Mungo's promised her a fulfilling career? So far all she'd done was 6 months of paperwork, some training, and oh yes, save the life of her childhood enemy. And if Draco didn't stop bothering her, she'd land him back in the ICU like THAT. (Kiiiind of an old fic. But I copied it over anyway.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic I published YEARS ago - 2010 to be exact. Half of these are pretty old, I've only posted one in progress fic on this site so far. May be more up by the time you're reading this. Do excuse the fact that I was just starting to write and wasn't very comfortable with it yet. Still, it gets better, (or so they've told me) so I've decided it's worth copying over to this site. Enjoy!

_Crehan, Charlie._ It was a thin folder, perhaps only a child. She opened it to find just a few papers, printouts from checkups and a writeup from when he'd broken an arm playing Quidditch with his brothers. He was eleven, being educated at home with his siblings, and he was the tallest eleven year old she'd ever seen. All of his brothers were tall though, she'd been through three of their files already. They were almost another set of Weasleys. She'd have met most of them if they'd gone to Hogwarts. She typed his name into the database, entered the file numbers of all of his reports, and set the file in the opposite basket, the pile inside was quickly rising.

"Abbot? Can you help me with this pile, please?" Hermione leaned back in her chair, making her back cry out in pain. She'd been sitting at this desk, save for her hour long lunch break, since eight this morning. Hannah Abbot bustled around the corner, greeted Hermione, and took the pile from her 'Complete' basket. Hermione turned to face forward again and continued.

This was not what she was hoping to get into, being a Healer. She thought about the summer after the war, about her career choices. She thought about returning to Hogwarts that fall with her classmates and taking N.E.W.T.s. At the time, she'd fully intended on going into Curse-breaking, or Historical studies. She'd intended to be doing work in a field, do be doing research. Hermione Grangers time was better spent doing actual work in the world and working to better it, than sitting behind this horribly uncomfortable desk in an artificially lit room in the basement of St. Mungo's. She'd been working here for nearly months now, and hadn't seen an injured patient herself, except in elevators or walking down hallways. She was itching to pull out her wand and fix something as simple as a papercut. She was almost tempted to send her pencil flying at someone and hope it drew a little blood...

She shook her head. Injuring people was not the intention of a Healer. She had to remind herself that her six month cap of working at St. Mungo's was almost here, at that they'd guaranteed her a spot upstairs when it came around. She just had a week left, that was it. She pulled the next file from the drawer, put the information into the computer, and continued on. Hermione had been out of school for two years now. She'd taken her N.E.W.T.s with her friends, scored exceptionally high (as expected) and was suggested, by McGonagall, to go into medicine.

_"There aren't enough witches and wizards left like you, Hermione. Brilliantly smart, almost too much for their own good. Studious, with a thirst for knowledge. There are plenty of students who can wave a wand and break a curse. There are even plenty who can read books just as often as you like to. But I think, perhaps, that a career in medicine might suit you well."_

_"Honestly, McGonagall, I'd thought about it before. I do need a job where I'm doing something, all the time."_

_"You've always been one to sit behind a desk, dear, but you're smart enough to be tackling the problems of the wizarding world. Have you considered law?"_

_"Never. I just don't think I could do that."_

_"Then perhaps, Miss Granger, being a healer is something you should consider. Give them a call, tell them I personally referred you, if you wish. I doubt it'll be hard for you to get a good job anywhere, given the circumstances. And these test scores... I haven't seen scores this high since my own!"_

She was going to visit Hogwarts one day, and seriously have a talk with McGonagall about 'forgetting' to tell her there would be six months of desk work and training before she'd get to do any real healing. Speaking of training, her supervisor walked into the room and crooked a finger at her. "Granger?"

She nearly jumped from her chair, walking quickly past Hannah Abbot and up the stairs. She was going to floor one - check in, general medicine, and storage. But then he lead her to the elevator. Inside, he explained the last bit of her training.

"Hermione, the board and I have spoken and we've decided that it's time for you to move upstairs. You've proven more than acceptable in all of our standards, and we're hoping that you'll complete your training today and be able to start working upstairs with the big boys and girls as soon as Monday. Think of this as a final test."

 _Good,_ Hermione thought. _I love tests._ She couldn't hide her excitement. Her foot was tapping before he even hit the button for level three - major trauma recovery, surgical center, and bone growing. This was perhaps her favorite floor, and she was perfectly ecstatic to be brought here.

"The Board has discussed it, and we think that you are best suited for caring for long term recovery patients. You seem to have the _patience_ to deal with them." He laughed at his own joke, Hermione simply kept smiling. It was her second choice, but trauma took extra training, and she couldn't wait any longer. "We're short of staff up here anyway, and we've just received three new long term patients. As of today, we're short on our ratio - four patients to one doctor, in this particular ward - And this is why we've moved your cap up to next Monday. And your test. We're going to walk through a few rooms, I'm going to show you charts. Things will be missing - expected release date, treatment, and admittance date. I want you to tell me what you think those things could be, based on the state of the patient."

She was ready for this. She was so, _so_ ready for this.

* * *

Her supervisor had not only passed her with flying colors, he'd taken her with him to the board meeting that afternoon to have them deliver her Training Completion paperwork personally. She signed on all seven lines, dated it, and was told to report to her new ward Monday morning at nine sharp. She'd been halfway to dancing out of the building by the end of it. Maybe she wouldn't go back and scold McGonagall after all. Maybe she'd hug her. This was the best she'd felt since before the war started. She clasped her hands in front of her and felt the ring on her left hand, and was reminded of the only time she'd been happier.

She and Ron had continued to see each other after the war. When they were notified of being able to take their N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year with the students a year under them, he'd asked her to help him study - he wanted to be an Auror, with Harry. He wanted to continue the fight against dark magic everywhere. She was so proud of him, she cried that night. Ron had grown up, in her eyes, as of that moment. They studied nightly until the test, and they were both surprised at his results - he'd scored higher than Harry had.

When Ron and Harry had gone into Auror training, Hermione had taken six months to find her parents and settle her affairs. She flew to Australia, and she found her parents, surely. But the memory charm had been on for far too long. Things hadn't gone right. Hermione had returned home heartbroken, the minds of the Wilkins' restored. When she returned every two weeks during her quest, she was always greeted immediately by Ron. He was her number one supporter, her very best friend, and on top of it all, they'd fallen madly in love. She couldn't be happier. Until he proposed - it had been the happiest part of her life that Hermione could remember having. Ron had taken her out all day and completely exhausted and spoiled her. The next night he proposed at the Burrow, in front of family and friends gathered for his own birthday. She'd said yes, and he said it was the only present he'd really wanted.

Since then, things had gone... well. Her relationship with Ron had cooled down considerably: emotionally and physically. They rarely fought, they were relatively good at solving their problems. They planned to move in together by the end of the year. In the back of her head, Hermione had the nagging feeling that something was _missing,_ but she chalked it up to not having her parents present for any of it, and for the depression she'd held on to since the beginning of the hunt for Horcruxes. She was, in a sense, absolutely a disaster. But she was happy, she supposed. And now, with this advancement at work, she felt good again. Definitely good. She phoned Ron to tell him the news, and they planned to meet for dinner at eight.

* * *

She went home, readied herself, and waited until nearly seven to begin her walk. She enjoyed walking more than driving a muggle car, that was sure. And as the restaurant Ron had specified was deep in Muggle London, she'd have to walk. Her feet ached when she reached the edge of the district, but she didn't care. After her early promotion, she wouldn't let something like uncomfortable shoes bother her.

What would bother her, however, would be the grunt she heard from an alleyway to her left. It was low, but not low enough that she couldn't hear it over the noise of the street. Usually, something as this would make her stare straight ahead and walk quickly past - the alleys in the city were full of danger. But this grunt wasn't angry - it sounded hurt. And as a healer, she was forced by her own heart to stop and look, muggle or wizard.

It was a wizard. His wand lay limply in his outstretched hand, teetering away from him. He was between laying on his side and his face, and every visible inch of him was covered in blood. His shirt was torn half off, his sunglasses had broken completely in half and cut deep into his face. He was bleeding much too quickly. His leg looked absolutely mangled, and his arm was twisted in suck a way... She was glad she'd stopped. And she was also glad she'd learned to apparate holding someone who couldn't hold themself up. She'd have blood on her favorite dress, but it was nothing she couldn't charm off anyway. With a crack, she was gone.

* * *

It was nearly three in the morning. She'd phoned Ron as soon as Healers had taken the man in and cancelled their plans - he'd understood, though she could hear his disappointment over the line - they hadn't seen each other in nearly a week, with his Auror work and her busy schedule. A healer came out of the operating room in front of her.

"He has injuries no degree of magic can help - he's going to be here for a while. We'll put him in the ICU over the weekend to restore the blood he lost and to mend anything we can. Where on earth did you find him?"

"In an alley, in the middle of muggle london. I usually don't stop for strange sounds in the alleys, but he sounded like he was in pain, and I saw a wand... and there was blood, everywhere."

"He's lost so much blood. He was near dying - if you hadn't stopped, or if you'd stalled even three minutes... he'd be gone. There would be nothing we could do, after that."

She shuddered. Her first day of her promotion, and she had already seen more blood than she ever intended on seeing. She was instantly glad she hadn't ended up in Trauma.

"After his stint in ICU, he'll move up to your ward. In fact, as you're the newest one in... he'll probably be a patient of yours. Unless you're uncomfortable with it."

"Multiple reasons, I suppose. You saw him at his worst, and he was bad. You did pick him up off the streets. And if our identification is right - and how could it be wrong, really - we're sure the two of you went to school together."

She thought of the faces she hadn't seen since they'd left - Seamus, Neville, any of the Weasleys, Harry even, anybody. "Who is it?"

"It's probably best that you see him anyway. Come with me." She followed him down a long hallway and into a room. He shut the door behind them, and the shock she felt when she saw his eyes watching her, when she saw his gaunt face resting over on the pillow supporting him, was enough to warrant her own room at St. Mungo's - somewhere in the mental illness ward.


	2. Chapter 2

She hadn't known it was him when she'd found him in the alley - he'd used magic to change his appearance slightly, darkening his hair and lengthening his nose slightly. She hadn't noticed that he'd also changed his eye color, but now that the effects had worn off and he was back to normal, there was no mistaking who was in the first bed in her ward.

"Hermione, good to see you. You look wonderful in that dress, I'm sorry you missed your date. No need to stay, sir, I'll just have a chat with my old friend here." Hermione couldn't say a damned thing. If she turned down her _first_ patient, her supervisors would have a fit. Even if it was this terrible, loathsome... the door shut behind her, and suddenly they were alone. She took hold of her golden opportunity.

"You have _got_ to be kidding me. I saved your selfish, pompous, vile, pathetic self off the street and now you're in my ward?"

"Good to see you too, Granger. It's been how long? Since the final battle, I'm sure. And yes, in fact, I might just request you as my Healer. We do have a history, you know." He winked and it was disgusting, but on top of it all his voice was worse than hoarse, it was absolutely rocky. From how he sounded, it was almost like he _had_ swallowed rocks. She silently wished he had.

"Two years, one month, and seven days. The best times of my life, you slimy little git. Please, don't request me. I only move up to actually begin my job this upcoming Monday. I'd really hate to kill a patient on my first day!"

"Why did you save me, then?"

"You changed your appearance! You'd done all those things, and I was afraid you were going to die, and I didn't think! If I had known it was you at all... Draco Malfoy so help me, I would have killed you myself."

"You don't have the guts, Granger. And I don't have the energy to argue. Please, stop yelling. And please stop insulting me - I've done nothing to earn your hatred of me."

"Besides calling me a Mudblood, torturing me through six years of schooling, nearly getting me killed, and ruining my life just now?"

"Oh come now. I can't have ruined your _entire_ life. You've got a ring on - someone obviously took enough pity on you to marry you. I'm betting it was the Weasel."

She fumed, and threw down her pocketbook, and grabbed a piece of parchment from the small Healer's desk within.

"So I'm right, then? Predictable. Though, I wouldn't have been surprised had you ended up with Potter, either. I hate to say it, but he's probably a better catch. And I hear he's loaded."

She shot him a glare that meant death, and he responded as such.

"The flinch that your glare just gave me, caused me actual physical pain. Just thought you should know."

She tore the top half of her note off and stuck it in the charmed basket, where it was immediately transferred to her desired destination. The second half, she scribbled out and crumbled in her hand, muttered an incantation to it and spoke.

"So help me, Draco Malfoy, when I come back Monday and you have a bed in my ward, Room number 331, I will make your life a living hell. You will not sleep, you will not rest, and you will be denied the luxury of extra pain medication. I will do whatever it takes to make sure that you heal as quickly and painfully as possible. Do I make myself clear?" She tossed the bit of parchment on the side table next to him and stormed to the door, yanking it open.

"Sure, Granger. But how are you so sure I'm going to be assigned to you?"

She slowly turned her head and smiled at him - "The first half of that piece of parchment? I've just requested to be your Healer. The second? A cheerful, friendly, and alteration-proof charm from your _dear_ friend Hermione Granger, welcoming you to St. Mungo's and filling you in on the details of my life. From now on, within this room, you and I will be the only two who can read anything I write down. I've been working on the charm for months now, finally came in handy. Enjoy your weekend, Draco. Mondays are never pretty, but this will be your worst!"

* * *

He was more than surprised - he was bloody shocked, and of course, he was _literally_ bloody again. The medi-witch came in to change his bandages. "Healer Rathbone will be here shortly to check on you, he's just been caught up with another patient."

Draco smiled his charming, witch-winning smile, and beckoned to the older woman beside him. "Darling, can you grab that bit of parchment for me? Healer Granger left it for me, a little welcome letter, and I'm afraid I can't quite reach it."

She handed him the ball of paper, smiled, and left the room.

_Draco,_

_I'm ever so glad that you're in St. Mungo's. Of course, the circumstances are absolutely dreadful, but it's so nice to see the face of such a good old friend! I've already requested for you to be in my ward, and even though I haven't talked to Healer Rathbone - I'm sorry to say that you'll probably have to stay hospitalised for at least a month, perhaps more. At least we'll get to spend some quality time together - despite our differences, I'm sure we'll have a wonderful month while you're healing. I know it's been a while since we talked, but I figured I'd fill you in on some details - Ron and I got engaged a few months ago, and we're decently happy. We haven't moved in together yet because I'm waiting to get my career totally on track before I make any big commitments. Harry and I see each other more than I see Ron, and that's only because Harry's nearly miserable with Ginny lately. No, my life did not get better after I became a war hero. No, I didn't get a large sum of money from it. But life has been continuing wonderfully since then. Cheers! - HG._

Oh, so the little brat was going to play it that way, was she? The sarcasm was practically dripping off the page. In that case, maybe Draco didn't mind the fact that she wouldn't be healing him very quickly - perhaps he'd have to stick around a little more and bother her for longer. She certainly seemed to get a rise out of walking in to see him on the bed. He smirked - maybe this wasn't such a bad situation after all. Her situation with Ron seemed bad, to say the least. The way she said 'decently happy' implied, subtley, that she wasn't very happy at all. And Harry and Ginny fighting? Draco couldn't get enough. He read over the letter four times before setting it on his lap, replaying the possible meanings in his head. Perhaps this month would be educational, as well.

* * *

"I can't refuse him as a patient, so what other option do I have?"

"Well, you certainly didn't have to request to be his Healer. That may have been overkill - he could have been in someone else's ward. You could have barely seen him for his entire visit."

"I'd rather deal with him and make sure he suffers to the fullest extent of his injuries. I'll heal him as quickly as possible, but he's not going to get it done the easy way."

Harry and Ron both sat across from her in the pub, the dim lighting casting an ominous glow on Hermione and her explanation of the previous night. "I mean honestly, it's Draco Malfoy! What else should I do?"

Harry cleared his throat. "You could, you know, just give it up. Let him go to another ward. Not kill him."

Ron elbowed Harry and turned to his fiancee - who was perturbed that he hadn't sat next to _her,_ as she usually did. "Really though, 'Mione, don't stress yourself out about it. It's okay. Until then, I'm leaving, I've got a file to start on early tomorrow morning and I don't like where it's headed. The both of you should enjoy yourselves a while. Hermione, we should reschedule that date..."

He left without as much as a hug and she turned to Harry.

"If you and Ginny were engaged, you'd hug her before you left, right?"

Harry sighed, setting his face in his hands. "I don't know how I deal with the both of you still. Hermione, if you're not happy, just say so."

"I _am_ happy, Harry. It just seems like... things have fallen flat with Ron. Like he doesn't care about impressing me anymore. Shouldn't you always keep things good with a partner like that? Not to mention, we haven't slept together in _ages..."_

"Hermione, I really don't want to hear about yours and Ron's sex life. I could do without that information. If it's bothering you, tell him. And then take it from there."

"What about you and Ginny, then? How are you both doing?"

She knew the answer to this question - Harry had been feeling about Ginny the same way she'd been feeling about Ron for a few weeks now, and Harry glared at her from between his fingers.

"Touche. We'll both talk to our respective Weasley's and then you and I, we'll meet up in a week, alright?"

"Fine. And Harry, you've got a bit of Firewhiskey on your upper lip."

* * *

"Morning, Granger. I trust you had a nice weekend?" Her supervisor, Healer Rathbone, smiled at her from across the break room where she was checking in.

"Of course, yes, I celebrated moving up a little... and relaxed after the disaster from last week."

"Speaking of, your new patient was moved in just last night. The bleeding is at a minimum, we've started treating him with Skele-gro, but even then, it could take a while for it to work out... his bones were shattered so bad in some places, no healing could save them. We had to regrow. His face is still all bloodied up, there was some sort of magic in the glasses that cut his face we think, the cut won't seal. There's bruising literally _everywhere_ , I don't know how he got bruised in a few places. Check the rest of the charts for anything else you need to know, and just be gentle with him. He'll be here for at least a month and a half, possibly up to three months. You'll have another patient in the next few weeks, but for now we're thinking he needs individual care."

 _Three months? Had she just heard him correctly?_ "Of course, Rathbone. Thank you. I'll see to him right away."

Hermione couldn't believe her sore luck - up to three months? Bones that bad? And still, he was her only patient! She turned the corner, walked down the long corridor, and burst through the door to find Draco Malfoy nearly naked.

"Plan on walking in on me like that? Or was it just a nice surprise?" He pulled the blanket farther up on his lap, securing covers over his privates. "I have to admit, I was just checking on the bruising on my legs - gruesome, absolutely revolting. Would you like a peek?"

"Sadly, Malfoy, I'll have to look anyway. Please tell me you have something on under that blanket, you're supposed to at least wear a hospital gown."

"Those paper contraptions? Never. I just took off my shirt, I've got boxers on. You're safe."

She still doubted him, until he pulled the blanket down just far enough for her to see black fabric at his hips. "Happy?"

"Deliriously. Push the blanket back, I'll take note of the bruising first, then cuts."

Healer Rathbone had been right when he'd said Draco was covered in bruises - Hermione couldn't find an apendage from his arms to his toes that wasn't purple, blue, black, green, or yellow in some place. In addition, he was cut up everywhere - on his face, his chest and back, his hands, his feet.

"Draco, what on Earth happened to you?"

He turned to her, the usual smirk gone from his face. "Honestly, I don't know. I remember talking to a few new muggle friends - at least, I assumed they were muggles. We walked around London and they insisted we take a shortcut to a pub they knew of downtown. I don't remember anything after that, and I can barely remember what they looked like..."

"Do you think it was deliberate? That someone knew it was you?"

"Look who's concerned like a good little Healer."

At this comment, she stopped being gentle on his bruises and prodded one on the inside middle of his thigh, making him gasp.

"It's nothing compared to how the rest of me feels. I can't feel anything but pain - do you know what that's like?"

"I do, Draco. In fact, I experienced it in the sitting room of your Manor just over two years ago. Your aunt made sure of that - over and over and over again."

He hadn't meant it that way, and he nearly slapped himself for it. How could he bring up something like that? Merlin, he was stupid sometimes...

"I didn't mean to bring that up, Granger. I'm sorry."

She nearly froze then, setting the clipboard back into it's holder slowly and turning to him. "Did you just apologize?"

"Don't make me admit to it."

"You said _sorry._ I don't think I've ever heard you say that word. I didn't know you knew the meaning."

She nearly smiled before walking backwards towards the door. "I'll be back in to check on you this afternoon... I expect they'll have me doing more paperwork in my down time. And Draco?"

"Hmph?"

"Thanks." She turned and slipped through the door quickly, thinking to herself that if Draco Malfoy was going to be so damn agreeable, she might have an even harder time dealing with him.


	3. Chapter 3

She bathed, dressed, and mentally prepared for the day ahead of her - a day spent entirely looking after Draco Malfoy. At first, she'd intended to nearly torture him - it would serve him right, after their disastrous six years of going to school together. After his name calling. After everything else. In the end, however, morality and her career won out - Hermione couldn't possibly do anything to him without risking her job and her reputation. She was being watched, and she had no opportunity to make him pay, despite revenge not usually being in her nature anyway.

When she opened the door that morning, Draco was partially hidden by a copy of The Daily Prophet.

"Granger."

"Malfoy. How are your bones?"

"Check the chart. I don't know anything about it."

She sighed, snatching the chart off the end of his bed. "You're having problems growing bones. It's not working as fast as it should."

"And it's bloody painful. I don't think I've felt anything this bad since _Sectumsempra..._ "

They both cringed at the memory - Hermione had told Harry not to listen to anything in the book, and in the end she'd been right. As usual.

"I can imagine that it was painful. This is, probably, going to be worse. Ready for another dose of Skele-Gro?"

"No."

"Well, I'm not terribly sorry, but it's time." She poured the required amount of the potion into a small glass, handing it to him. "Bottoms up, Malfoy."

He glared at her and she smiled. Maybe she was getting her little bit of revenge after all. He spluttered, nearly choking on the potion. "This is disgusting. I'll never damage another bone again."

"Good, you'll never have to stay in my ward again. How are your bruises?"

"So many issues, and plenty of time. My bruising is just as disgusting as it was yesterday - and it's still everywhere."

"Good to know. Any other funny things showing up? Unexpected swelling?"

He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Healer Granger, I have unexpected swelling every time you walk into the room."

She tapped his right knee with the clipboard, rolling her eyes. He swore, gasping. "That's the broken one!"

"One more word about unexpected swelling, and I'll land you right back in the ICU."

"Is that a threat?"

She bowed low to get to his eye level, narrowing her eyes to slits. "No, Draco Malfoy. It's a promise."

His eyes slipped down over the curve of her neck, down past the neck of her white healer robes, to a surprisingly magnificent set of...

"Malfoy!" She stood straight, folding her arms over her chest.

"Sorry, Granger. They were practically in my face."

"I'll be back later to change your bandages. Don't cause any trouble while I'm gone, please. It's my first week on the job."

She turned to leave, opening the door and beginning to step through.

"Granger, what happened with you and Weasley?"

Was it a trick, or did she hear a note of concern in his voice? Did Malfoy actually care about her - or anything, for that matter? She slammed the door behind her, leaving him alone with his question.

* * *

_She spun the ring on her finger, removing it briefly to read the inscription - 'til death do us part. It was slightly morbid, but also held true in their relationship - not war, or duels with Death Eaters, or Voldemort himself, or any number of potentially lethal things had gotten in the way of them being together. They'd fought together, fought each other, and ultimately, she'd kissed him on the night of the final battle because she feared that they may have escaped death too many times._ _Hermione had just begun training for St. Mungo's - it had not been her first plan of career, but with a few not-so-subtle nudges from Headmistress McGonagall, Hermione had finally decided to become a Healer. She could be doing work that meant something - she could be applying her extensive medical knowledge to the act of saving people, every day._

_Ron walked in the door nearly two hours late home from work. "'Mione."_

_"Hello, Ronald. Good day at work?"_

_She saw him freeze, then relax. "Yes, fine. Just fine. Lots of work, very tired."_

_"I hope you don't mind, I ate a little without you. You were kind of... late."_

_"I do important work, you know that."_

_"Of course, I didn't say you didn't. There's a little left over in the fridge when you're hungry."_

_"Actually, it's late. I think I'll just get to bed."_

_He walked past her and shut the door behind him, and she watched the light flick out in the strip of space under the door. He'd been acting rather strange lately - his behavior was all suspicious, but of course he wouldn't be doing anything to gain suspicion - Ron was honest, and hard working. He'd just taken on extra work, he told her, which was why he was late so often. He was moving up in his department. He was making them more money. She couldn't be more proud in his change of attitudes since the end of the war - Ron was proud of himself, which made her proud of him. It was excellent. Now, she just had to breach the subject of possibly having a child, and of course he'd want at least one, she just wasn't sure how soon..._

* * *

"You never answered my question." Draco was still looking at his paper, but of course he knew it was her - who else would huff as she walked into the room, snatching up his charts like it was her ticket out of hell?

"It's not your question to ask. I tell my friends my personal problems. You are not my friend." Her tone was clearly annoyed. It pleased him.

"No, however I am an unbiased third party."

"Unbiased?"

"I dislike all of you equally."

"Oh, that's really excellent Malfoy. Really slick, you're just hilarious." She pulled out the A in hiarious, it made him laugh. The sarcasm dripped off of her.

"Dear Hermione, I apologize for my comment. I am merely curious, and as someone who knew you before you so obviously fell apart, I'd really like to know what happened."

She looked up into his eyes, and for a moment, Draco swore he could see hurt there, lying deep in the pools of chocolate. She tore her eyes away from his, down to the charts in her hands. "That's too bad. Stop poking around in my personal life."

She came to the side of the bed to check his heart rate and other vitals, and he watched her the whole time. She looked... tired. It was the only way of describing her. The war had affected all of them, but perhaps there were things he didn't know about what she'd been up to in the year they were finding out how to destroy Voldemort. He didn't say a word as she finished taking her notes, checking his bruising, and sighing like someone who was trying to make a point. She hung the clipboard back up on the end of his bed and went to press a button on his IV, which would release pain medication.

"I thought you said I got no pain meds?"

"You look like you're about to fall apart. Torture may be something a Malfoy is used to, but anyone with a decent heart will help someone who needs it."

 _Do you need help, Hermione?_ He wanted to ask - but why? As she stepped away he reached out, nearly grabbing her wrist, but he missed. She took the last few steps out the door, and he watched her let out a breath through the small window. Relief. Was he really that bad? Had he really caused her that much anguish, that much trouble? The immediate answer was a resounding _yes_. His family had tortured her and very nearly had her killed. He personally had bullied her throughout school. And in the midst of it all, he'd heard through the grapevine that something had gone wrong with her parents, and she hadn't seen them again. What had all that meant? He lifted his left arm, looking specifically at his forearm - a place where he'd once held the mark of something so sinister and evil, he'd been ashamed of it as soon as he'd gotten it. His Dark Mark had faded considerably - he'd taken special measures to make sure that it did. After his sixth year, his allegiance to the Dark Lord had diminished, and by the end of the final battle, it was gone completely. Who could kill so many, so heartlessly? Draco himself wasn't a saint, but he wouldn't have just blown everyone else out of the way to get what he wanted - he would have tricked it out of everyone. He smirked - wit was a way to win.

Just before her return to change his bandages, Draco shared a thought with himself. _She'd said anyone with a decent heart will help someone who needs it. I have a decent heart - though she may not see it. And maybe she's the one who needs the help afterall._

Unbeknownst to Draco, Hermione Granger was a character all her own - and his own way of going about helping her was only going to make matters worse.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

She'd come into work late, and Draco had to admit to himself that he was disappointed - he'd wanted her to be there first thing in the morning, he'd been having problems with a spot on his leg next to his groin, and making Granger peek under the blanket with no underthings on was something he found amusing. He couldn't call another nurse - it would show on his paperwork as someone else taking care of it, and then the joke would be ruined. He had to admit though, that he'd been considering just calling another nurse - Hermione obviously had enough stress in her life without his usual pranks - and he didn't think seeing him down below would cheer her up much. He grinned. _Well, it could, if she really got a good look at it. It wasn't small..._ But then he remembered what he'd been thinking for the past week - perhaps she was the one who needed help even more than he did.

He finally called in another nurse, letting her check the spot and put a charm on to make sure blood wasn't clotting or anything. It seemed fine, just a deep bruise. Hermione would have killed him for it, but the medi-witch here just made a few notes and put the clipboard back where it belonged. _Score one, on things I could have done to annoy Hermione Granger, but didn't._ It was a start.

"My leg feels a little odd, like it's still not growing in right."

"Why do you care? Why do you ask me questions?"

"Are we still talking about my leg?"

She rolled her eyes. "No, Draco. I'm talking about why you've asked me how I'm doing, you've asked how my life is going, you've asked me so many questions. Why?"

"I'm trying to be courteous, is all. And you saved my life, if you don't remember that."

"Muggle medicine wouldn't have saved you. You would have died."

"Precisely. But you of all people saw me in that alleyway and stopped - not checking to see if I was friend or foe - and you saved my life."

_Well, there was that._

"Look, Hermione. Courtesy was common for me as a child, even if I didn't like someone a handshake or bow and a polite greeting was the very least that was necessary. You're not only my healer, but we went to school together and I wasn't kind to you."

"So why are you now? _I just don't understand why you're being so kind._ "

"If you're not used to kindness, you and Weasel have more to worry about than you thought."

"Ron is perfectly kind to me."

"That was disgusting." Draco sneered. Was she really that blind? Hermione was supposed to be intelligent, for god's sake.

"What?" She snapped back. Who was he to ask?

" _Perfectly kind to me_ sounds like _I'm stuck in a loveless marriage that I don't know how to get out of because it would tear down the world around me._ " He was taunting her, and he knew it. But did that stop him? Obviously not.

Hermione, who had previously been marking things down on her clipboard, suddenly froze, gripping the pen so hard it snapped in two. He froze as well, his eyes getting as big as saucers and his entire body retreating back into the pillows behind him.

"Are you happy? _You got it, spot on, Malfoy!_ Are you proud? That you can read people so well? That you can point out everyone's flaws, just to make you feel better about yourself? I hope you're happy being old and alone, because if you keep on with making everyone else feel like rubbish, you'll never be loved!"

"Well Granger, you're not loved either, so hiding my opinions and observations isn't really worth the effort. If someone like you can't be happy, there's no hope for me."

Suddenly her scowl was gone, and replaced with a look of softness. What was it with this woman?

"What do you mean, someone like me?"

"I didn't mean it in a bad way."

"I know. The connotation almost made it sound like you were complimenting me."

"I was. You're intelligent, humorous, caring, and I will admit that your looks improved with your age. If someone with such positive qualities can't be happy, there is no hope for me - someone who was always cruel and hurtful and harsh."

Her face took on another look - one he couldn't read. The word that immediately came to mind was _quizzical_. And before he could say another word, she'd replaced the clipboard to it's proper place and left, letting the door shut with a smack behind her. He only felt more confused once she'd left - had he really just told her all of those good things about herself? It took only an hour before she poked her head into the room once more, quizzical look still on her face.

"Did the nurse stop in yet?"

"What nurse?"

"I sent someone in to change your potions for your leg."

"No one has been in here but you."

She groaned, stepping in with a small vial in her hand. "I had a feeling. Honestly, what is the point of a medi-witch if she can't come in and give a patient a potion?"

"Scribbling things on clipboards and scurrying around?"

"That's all they seem to do." She chuckled, and it pleased him to know that the anger really had left her. He opened his mouth to speak, but she'd spoken at the same time.

"I'm sorry for being rude, Malfoy. I-"

"I'm sorry for being a git about you and Ron."

They both stopped, staring at each other. She smiled into the paperwork she was looking at on the board. "Thanks. Your x-rays look alright, by the way - you still have a bit of internal damage, your brain is still a little swollen, but your bones are slowly but surely healing."

"You sounded like you were going to say something else, before I spoke too."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did. You said I, and then you stopped."

He could see her bite her lip, despite trying to hide her face behind her clipboard. "It's nothing, really. I only meant to say that I was sorry for being so rude to you when you've been actually decent to me. I think I'm actually glad I saved your life."

"How so?"

"When I go to work, I always have the feeling that I have someone to talk to, even if I haven't talked to you much yet - someone that knows how Ron and I were before the war. Someone who doesn't just see us as the vigilante, dark-wizard-fighting sidekicks to Harry. Someone who knows that not every cloud after the war has had a silver lining."

Before he could process another of her strange lines, she set down the clipboard again and left him in bed, agape at her sudden professed feelings. _This could be interesting._

Hermione stared into the frothy cappuccino in her hands. Had she really just told Draco that she was glad she saved his life? For someone so intelligent, she could be awfully stupid. Even worse than that was that she'd forgotten to give him his potion. The potion that she'd brought him when the 'medi-witch hadn't shown up.' Right. In all honesty, Hermione had never called for one - she'd just made that up. Why did she have to make up a medi-witch, anyway? Draco was her patient. She was at full liberty to see to him as much as she needed to ensure that he was getting well. So why did she feel like she'd _wanted_ to go see him again? He'd been her patient for nearly two weeks now, the days passing quickly until they conversed, and then slowly and awkwardly when one of them admitted they didn't have as much of a problem with the other as they should. Perhaps it was just that her interactions with Draco were a nice distraction.

But a nice distraction from what? From her failing relationship - yes. From the fact that the war had made everything bloody great for everyone else in the world, but that it's after effects had ruined her life? Definitely yes. And Draco, obviously, understood that. She wondered what had happened to him since the war - with his parents, his friends, old Death Eaters. And what had Draco himself been doing? He'd said he was with friends who he thought were muggles, but that was as far as he'd gone into his personal life since the war. He'd only wanted to know more about hers - but was it genuine curiosity? Or some kind of trick, to only upset her more?

She took a sip of cappuccino and suddenly wished it was firewhiskey - she realized with a start that she believed Draco to be genuinely curious as opposed to setting up another scheme. And that may have frightened her even more.

* * *

"Do you want to know the truth?"

His head flipped up to look at her from it's previous position - he was scribbling away on a memo pad - and he nodded. "Yes. It's why I've been asking."

"Don't get smart with me, or I can stop right now. Put away whatever you're doing. I have a potion to give you at the end of this that isn't going to be pleasant, I'm warning you now."

He cautiously set down the pad of paper, never taking his eyes off her. He took off his glasses - Malfoy needed glasses? - and nodded. "Okay. Go."

"Ron and I liked each other for a long time before the final battle, but _neither_ of us had the guts to admit it. We were afraid we'd mess it up. He dated Lavender, I saw Viktor Krum for a while when he was here, we dabbled around with other people but nothing truly serious ever came from it. We knew we were waiting for the right moment to be together, but then again that also left Harry on the outside - a third wheel, where he was usually the one in front - the leader. So the night of the final battle, Ron said something and I kissed him right in the middle of everything. Then Fred died - and so many others - and it put a damper on everything. Somehow, for Ron and I, the chase had been more interesting than actually being together - when we were happy, we just felt guilty. To give us time to heal, I left for Australia, to find my parents. It was only supposed to be for a few weeks - but I was having trouble finding them. I'd put a Memory Charm on them. It took six months, one week, and two days to find them. And once I finally did - the charm was too strong. I couldn't remove it safely without erasing _all_ of their memories. So I left them, happy. I'd been visiting home every two weeks on the journey, and Ron was always there, greeting me with a kiss and a smile.

"It had worked. I thought our relationship was better than ever. Ron seemed to as well, because he'd taken me out for a big day of celebration when I came back, and then the next day, on his birthday - he proposed. I thought it was the happiest day of my life."

He could see from her face that something about the last bit was wrong - she _thought._

"After that, things just slowed down. We moved in together a few weeks before my promotion, and he just seemed... distracted. He always had very important work to do, he'd come home two hours late nearly every night, and I'd eat dinner alone, _feeling_ alone. We rarely... slept together. If you know what I'm saying. He just doesn't seem interested anymore. I thought the promotion at work would be the stepping stone, that we'd be happy again, or that it would distract me from the feeling that something was _missing -_ but it didn't. It doesn't. Ron still comes home late and sleeps as far away from me on the bed as he can. We got married in a tiny, quiet ceremony at his parent's house. We've been married for a little over a year... and I was planning to breach the subject of having a child soon, since we're about ready for it financially. But with how he's been... I just can't do it."

"Hermione, I know this is going to sound a little cliche, but have you tried talking to him about it?"

"No. And I realize I should have. But how do you go about that? 'Oh Ron, I love you and all but you've been acting really weird lately. Do you want to have a baby?' Yeah, I'd get locked up in St. Mungo's myself for that, in the Psychiatric ward."

"Not like that, obviously. Warn him. Tell him when he comes home you'd like to talk to him about your relationship. When he gets home, have your points ready - that he's been distant, that you're suspicious, that you want to fix things. Do you want to fix things?"

"How do you know I'm suspicious?"

"Intuition. You didn't answer my question. Do you want to fix things with him?" Draco leaned onto the railing of his hospital bed, bringing his face awfully close to Hermiones. "Because that's where this turns. If you do, you convince him you want to work things out. If you don't - you outline your problems and leave."

Hermione blinked, feeling the wisp of air - Draco's breath - on her cheek. This was... interesting. But Draco had a point. She sat back a few inches, feeling mildly uncomfortable with the close proximity to her childhood enemy. Then again, she'd just spilled a secret or two to him.

"I don't know. That's the problem. Part of me wants to stay, but that part of me is still holding on to how we used to be. The part of me that is realizing his changes wants to leave."

"But he's made the changes."

"But he could change back."

"If he does, you stay. If he doesn't, so help me Hermione Granger, I will do everything in my power to save you from a loveless marriage."

She cocked her head to the side, and Draco smirked. "You heard me. I'll save you from a loveless marriage, somehow."

"And why would you do that?"

"Payback for six years of torture and the fact that you saved my life? Something like that. And I'll save you from a lifetime of unhappiness."

"And how do you plan on doing that from the confines of your hospital bed over the next two and a half months?"

He smirked again, leaning closer to her once more. She blinked. "Hermione, I hope you haven't forgotten. I'm Draco Malfoy. Fierce, and yet fiercely protective. Powerful, influential, and intuitive. I will do everything in my power to make sure you're not unhappy for the rest of your life."

She stood, shaking her head. But he noticed the slight smile pulling at the edge of her mouth. "Despite the undertones - all positive and protective, I'm sure - you still sound like you're threatening me." She backed up to the door, pushing it open behind her and smiling.

"Threatening you with happiness, Hermione. Are you up for it? No matter what?"

"I suppose so." She finally smiled and slipped out the door, letting it shut behind her.

Draco couldn't stop smiling, despite her departure. So that's how it happened. So that's what the Weasel had done to upset her. Well, Draco had promised her happiness - and he was going to make sure she found it, no matter what.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

"Have you seen Hermione Granger?"

Oh, bloody hell. If Draco was hearing who he thought he was hearing, he was about to have a problem.

"No, I haven't. She might be with one of her patients, though. Check there." He could vaguely see a finger pointed towards his own door through the tiny window. Damn. Just moments later, the door opened to reveal a very happy looking Ron Weasley - the Weasel himself was in Draco's hospital room. Fantastic.

"You're not Hermione."

"Weasley, with brains like that it's a wonder Hermione didn't ditch you before you were even together. Obviously I'm not Hermione. But I haven't seen her yet today either."

"Oh. I forgot you were her patient."

"Well I'm in the bloody bed, aren't I?" Instead of Ron leaving, as Draco had hoped, the ginger stepped inside the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah. I s'pose you are. How's Hermione been, by the way?" It wasn't until now that Draco realized Ron was holding a bunch of flowers. He'd been coming to bring her flowers. Huh.

"You should know - you're her husband."

"She told you, then."

"I would have guessed it anyway. She had a ring, and it was either you or Potter."

"You really think she'd have married Harry?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "I should call a nurse or a doctor in here right now to kick you out. Unfortunately, my doctor _is not here._ Which leaves me with your insecurities and your blabbering. Yes, Weasley. It was a possibility. Don't act so surprised."

"Not surprised, really... anyway. If you see her, tell her I brought you these? I want it to be a surprise."

"And why should I? From what I've heard, you haven't exactly been cozy with her over the last bit of time."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, she doesn't exactly spout about how happy the two of you are."

"It's none of your business!"

"When she tells it to me, it is."

"Why would she tell you anything, git?"

"Because unlike you, since the war ended I've grown up a bit and have stopped calling people gits for no reason. Also, because no matter how much you or Hermione tries to deny it, I've change, Ron."

"I don't think you've ever called me Ron."

Draco groaned, throwing his arms up. "And there you go, five points for Malfoy the mega-git. Can you please leave?"

Again, instead of leaving, Ron made his stay more permanent - he set the flowers down on the counter and sat in the chair against the wall and turned towards Draco.

"What has she been saying?"

"That she worries about you. That she's suspicious. That she thinks your marriage is failing. "

"She tried to talk to me about it last night. I brushed her off. That's why I came by today. To apologize."

"She wants a child, you know."

That, Ron didn't know. He'd never listened long enough to let her bring it up.

"I just don't understand. I feel like you know more about her and our marriage in just a few weeks than I knew in the last few years."

"That, Ron, comes from listening."

"I know."

"So why didn't you?"

Ron's brow furrowed, his lips set into a thin line across his pale face. "I was afraid she resented me."

"Well if she didn't before, she probably does now."

"And who are you, Malfoy, to judge my marriage? To speak for my wife?"

"I'm her patient, Ron, but on top of that I'm someone who took a minute to fucking _listen_ to her. I don't think the same can be said for you!" The moods had quickly turned hostile. Ron saw no reason to wait anymore and instead stood, crossing the room and quickly turning different shades of red.

"Draco Malfoy so help me - you've hurt my family, myself, and my friends - and if you do anything to ruin this marriage I will kill you. That's a promise."

"I'm afraid I don't have to do anything for the marriage to be ruined. She's unhappy - you've done it all yourself."

The door shut behind Ron Weasley with a quiet click - despite attempting to slam the door in Draco's face, he realized it was one of those doors you just couldn't shut fast enough.

* * *

"Morning, Draco. I trust you slept alright."

"Decently."

"Better than I did. I slept on the couch last night. Ron came home and I tried to talk to him, I really did... oh, and I forgot that potion I was supposed to give you again last night. I have it here in my robes, somewhere..."

She pulled out the tiny vial and tossed it to him, making a definite check mark on the clipboard. Draco took the spare moment to formulate his lie - Ron had never been here, right?

"And what happened, Hermione?"

"He came in and set his things down. He went into the kitchen, which is where I was, and I told him we needed to talk. He had a brief discussion with me about his day at work and then completely brushed me off again."

"I expected nothing less. Have you tried to do something a little more drastic?" He unstoppered the little vial and swallowed the contents, gasping and sputtering. "What is this shit?"

"It's for your internal bleeding - its very slow, but constant. Not enough to try and have an actual muggle surgery, but something we need to work on. And what do you mean, drastic?"

"I mean, have you considered telling him you're going to leave him?"

"What?"

"Tell him you're leaving, and you're tired of waiting and never being together anymore. Tell him that if he doesn't buck up, you're leaving."

"That would... I don't know, Draco."

"You've tried sitting him down to talk and he's not listening. This is the next step, Granger."

"I suppose so. I just haven't ever really thought about it."

"Think about it. Take a week or two to decide, and if you decide to do it... I can help you."

"And what would you know, on the subject?"

"I dated Pansy of all people. She saw me as an object. I told her to stop. She didn't. I threatened to leave. She didn't stop. I left."

"Wow. I never would have thought you and Pansy would have actually gotten together - you always seemed so..."

"Distant? Aloof? Yeah, it never really changed."

The pair laughed, and Draco took a moment to observe Hermione - she really was good looking, especially when she was smiling and enjoying herself. _Hold on,_ he thought. _Does that mean she's enjoying her time with me? Why should I care? She is beautiful, and smart, and witty. And I was a jerk to her in our childhood. Why would she ever take an interest in me. She's married! And why do I care?_

She stopped smiling and focused on Draco, who was so lost in thought with the possibilities that might arise between them that he didn't even realize a change. "Draco?"

"Sorry. I, uh, daydreaming, I guess. But I do know how it works. Just... consider it for me, will you?"

Hermione stood, brushing off her healers robes and walking towards the door - a glance at the clock told him that this was the time she usually took her lunch. "I'll be right back. And perhaps I will. But what happens if he doesn't care? If I leave him?"

As the door was slowly shutting, Hermione strained to hear his whispered words.

 _Then you're free to be with whoever you'd like._ The statement sent a chill through her spine - who was it that she'd be with? That she felt comfortable enough with? The answer came to her and she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. Maybe she wouldn't bring him non-hospital food and join him for lunch after all. She might just lose her lunch if she ever thought about being with Draco Malfoy again.

* * *

Hermione returned with food. She couldn't help it - she knew personally that the hospital's version of chicken pot pie was absolutely revolting. Draco apparently thought so too - his portion remained untouched on his tray table beside him. She smiled, sticking the bag through the opening in the door before stepping through herself. Draco's eyes were wide with disbelief.

"How did you get them to let you bring me food?"

"I told them it was my lunch and I was returning to work on your bleeding."

"And they believed that?"

"Not in the slightest. But it helps being a member of the Golden Trio."

"I see. What did you bring me?"

"I got us both lunch at a little restaurant down the street I've come to favor. Chinese, if that's alright."

"Brilliant. Didn't get enough chinese takeout as a child."

"I wouldn't imagine you did. I had it every Friday - family tradition."

"And it's Friday."

"Oh it is!" She smiled. "I didn't even realize that. With my mum and dad, we always used to go to the same place and eat it sitting around the house, never at the table. Chinese night was very casual."

"Well I'm in bed, and there don't seem to be many appropriate eating places besides that."

"Then I'll have to join you." The words were out of her mouth before she could even think them. What in bloody hell had she just said? Draco was going to think she was mad...

Instead, he simply shifted himself farther over, allowing plenty of space for her to join him. "If you insist, Granger. There's plenty of room."

"I could sit... no..."

"Grab your kung pao and get up here or I'll take back my invitation."

She stood still for nearly thirty seconds, then removed her healers robes, revealing jeans and a plain white, thin-strapped tank top. She then grabbed the bag and climbed up beside him, and he smiled at her.

"Welcome to my hospital bed. It's actually rather comfy. Did you actually get kung pao?"

"Kung pao chicken, rice, egg rolls, and a cup of wonton soup for both of us."

"Excellent." She distributed the goods and took out a pair of chopsticks for Draco and a fork for herself.

"Not proficient with chopsticks?"

"I've never spent the time trying. It's sure to be a disaster."

"They're not that hard. Grab the other pair - I know you have them."

She reluctantly removed the chopsticks from their bag and their paper wrapper, pulling them apart. "Now what?"

"Hold them like this." He showed her and she attemped to copy, but to no avail.

She laughed, and he laughed beside her. This was strange, she realized. More than strange - she was beyond just getting along with Malfoy - in the last few weeks she'd come to be good friends with him - to laugh and share secrets with him. Where on earth had it come from? She thought of the night she saved his life - it could have been anyone, and she'd have saved him. But it wasn't just anyone, it was Draco. If she'd have known it was him that night, would she have saved him? Despite saying that she'd have left him there to die? The question remained unanswered. She knew she'd have saved him anyway - it was in her nature. And yet Draco, who she was supposed to hate, had become so agreeable and had even gone so far as to apologize for his past transgressions. What were they becoming? What was after this friendship? What would happen when he was released from St. Mungo's? And what if she and Ron split?

It was all too much to think about. She turned to him. "Show me, then."

He reached over, placing his hand over hers and manipulating her fingers into the right positions. "Like this. And you move it like... this. To grab things."

She attempted to grab a piece of broccoli and dropped it on the way to her mouth. They laughed together again, and Draco placed his hand over hers again - there was warmth there, even after he moved his hand away. He showed her again and again, and even after she got the hang of it, she may have pretended once or twice more to let him help her. Was there shame in it? Perhaps. When she saw him smiling like that at her, like no one had in years, did the shame matter? Not at all.


	6. Chapter 6

"If things don't change, I'm leaving." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Hermione herself knew they were true. "This - us - isn't working like it should. I love you, Ronald, but you've been distant, and we never do things together anymore."

She watched him raise his head, his cheeks blazing. "I don't understand."

"I think you do." She pushed her peas around on her plate. He'd invited her to dinner with the rest of the Weasely's, and sensing tension Molly had ushered the rest of the party into the sitting room immediately after eating to allow Ron and Hermione to talk.

"I don't."

"You come home and don't even speak to me, let alone spend time with me. We haven't... we haven't made love in months. You're always at the ministry, and Harry tells me you never have that much work to do. I don't know if there's someone else - frankly, I don't care. If there is, we're through. If there isn't, we're still probably through. We are married, Ronald Weasley, and you claimed to be in love with me. People fall out of love and fall flat after decades - not after our past and a few measley months. I need to know that you're in this for the long run. I - I want to fix things, I think."

"You think?"

"You've made it very difficult to keep loving you, Ron."

"I don't..."

She knew. As soon as the word _don't_ was out of his mind, Hermione knew what Ron was going to say. She held up her hand, attempting to tune out his mumbled apologies and excuses.

"Ron, please. Just stop." She raised her head to look at him again and there were fresh tears. His face fell even further. He hadn't just lost his wife, his lover - he'd just lost his best friend, too.

* * *

"I still don't know why I even talk to you, let alone trust you."

She was in muggle clothes - nice jeans, heeled boots, and a low cut, emerald green sweater. Draco liked the color on her, and the Slytherin reference was lost on no one. "Granger, if you attack me every time you step through the door, I'll not only have to kill you, I'll take as long as possible to heal."

"Fine. Do what you will. In fact - follow through with your little plan. Make me happy."

"Pardon?"

"I talked to Ron. I finally got him alone."

"And?"

"He doesn't want to fix things. I had said maybe, at first, but I knew as soon as he started..."

"That he was a rat bastard and you deserve better?"

Hermione blinked, and he saw her cheeks flush. Good.

"I don't know what it is with these compliments, they are probably entirely double-edged swords, but to continue, I knew that he wasn't going to put in the effort. It's a shame for lost time - I'll probably cry myself to sleep next to a box of cereal tonight at Harry's and wake he and Gin up - but in time I'll be fine, I think."

"So you're getting a divorce?"

"I already contacted a lawyer. He's sending me the paperwork this week. We're meeting next week. We want this dealt with quickly - no media scandals, no drama."

"I can keep the papers out of your hair."

"I should ask how, but I won't."

"Accept it as step one to Operation Happiness."

"Pardon?"

"You copying me?" He grinned. "My plan to make you happy again. In just a few weeks, you'll be having lunch with an old friend of mine. We'll see where things go from there. I know many a suitable, enviable, well-off suitor who would be more than pleased to have you on his arm."

"I don't want to be arm candy Draco, I want..."

"Love, I know. Happiness. Smiles and all that... stuff. We. Will . Work. It. Out."

She shook her head, sitting beside him finally at his bedside.

"Hermione, may I ask why you are here? In muggle clothes? On a day that, I have been previously informed by Healer Rathbone, you called in sick?"

She seemed to ponder her answer for a moment, agape. "I just did. I needed somewhere to vent. Harry's already said I could stay at his place, I can use the couch..."

"No reason. You'll use my place. Sleep in a bed, you're getting a divorce."

"You're joking."

"I have a flat near here, about. I'm not using it at the moment, but instead staying at a small manor an uncle has left me. The keys are in my pocket, just over there." He waved a hand in the direction of the small cabinet, where she knew his clothes were kept. "I'll give you directions."

"That's ridiculous."

"It's courtesy, and you'll do as I say. Take a hot bath and take off another day. As long as you visit again. I can't stand the medi-witch, she totters in here and goes on about internal bleeding for half an hour before doing any work..."

"Malfoy."

"There are extra sheets in the cabinet across from the bed if you so choose to not sleep on mine - though I assure you I washed them the night before I was attacked. Towels are hung in the bathroom..."

"Draco."

There's a house elf - which you'll love to learn I actually _pay_. And feel free to use or eat anything..."

"DRACO."

"Yes, dear?"

She scowled at him. "I can't."

"You can and you will. I won't burden Potter any further than I did years ago. I owe him a quiet night's sleep, at the very least."

She shook her head. "If I wasn't agreeing with you so much, I'd decline again. But Harry's been working late..."

"So you'll stay at my flat. Excellent. And Hermione? Do use the jacuzzi tub. The jets can work out any little kink in your back, in case Ronald didn't or I can't..."

"So help me Draco Malfoy..."

He grinned a sheepish little grin and settled in, closing his eyes. "I feel rather tired, Healer Granger. Might I be left alone to sleep?"

She attempted not to smile, and failed. Walking over to the cabinet and retrieving the keys, she noted the address he told her when he heard the jingling noise and opened the door.

"I still don't know why I trust you."

"I still don't know why you haven't killed me yet. Good night, Hermione." The door clicked shut, and he could hear her sigh on the other side. Spotting a notepad on the table beside him, he picked it up and glanced at the heading - Hermione's tablet. With her mobile number. Excellent.

* * *

Draco found his thoughts transfixed on Hermione. As was set by his wards, he was notified of anyone entering or leaving the flat - and one Hermione Granger had entered and not yet left after two hours. Excellent. But what was she doing? Eating? Watching television? Bathing? The tub was set to fill at nine, and it was nine-fifteen now. Was she sleeping? Was she thinking about him as much as he was thinking about her? Not likely. But possible. He eyed the pad of paper and summoned his phone to his bed, punching in her number.

It rang once. Twice. Three times. There was a faint click, one which Draco assumed to be her voicemail clicking over. He pulled the phone away from his ear. Maybe she didn't like unknown numbers, or perhaps she really was sleeping already, or...

"Draco?"

His name was all she said - whispered, really. But it was enough to have him grasping back to get the phone to his ear. What was it about how she said his name that made his insides turn to mush? This was still Granger, he reminded himself, but then the picture of the Granger he once knew - buck-toothed, frizzy-haired, too-smart - was replaced with the new Granger. Intelligent but thoughtful. Straight teeth, nice hair - stunning, really. And wit to match his own. And all was lost, he knew it then - be he damned, Draco had a little crush on Hermione Granger. What.

"I'm here." He attempted to say clearly - softly. But his voice warbled a bit, giving him away. Okay, he was a little nervous. This was the farthest they'd come. A telephone call. Deliberate telephone call.

"My notepad with my number?"

"You left it on purpose?"

"I... hoped you'd call. That's why I said your name."

"And you assumed I'd call?"

"Hoped. A little. Your flat is beautiful."

"But a bit cold, isn't it?"

"I was thinking the same thing. When I'm done, I'll have to change the thermostat."

"What are you doing, then?"

The line went silent. Did he ask too much? What happened? Was she...

"I'm in the bath. The tub really is fantastic."

And before he could stop it, the vision of a stark naked Hermione, hair piled atop her head, a seductive grin on her face and...

"Draco? I was saying the tub gets really hot."

"Yes. It is. I mean, it does. There are controls under the handle, on the right."

"Oh, there. Thank you. I... hope this isn't weird, answering your call while I'm bathing. I heard it running and I've been in since. Will be for a while."

"I've been known to hide out in that bathroom - better tub than any manor."

"You'll have to have one built in the new manor."

 _Yes,_ he thought. _And then I'll have to invite you over to try it out and..._

"Draco? You've disappeared again."

"Apologies. Distracted."

"By a sparse hospital room and crabby medi-witches?"

"The same. But I just hope you've found everything satisfactory. If I know my elf, she'll have dessert on the table as soon as she hears you get out of the tub. She's wonderful."

"You pay her to be."

"And I pay her well."

He could practically hear her rolling her eyes over the phone. The faint hum of the jets was audible in the background. He loved those jets.

"I suppose. Well Draco, I'm going to get back to... laying around in this magnificent tub."

"Feel free to do so every night until you find another place to stay."

"What?"

"You heard me. I assume you don't want to go back to living with your soon-to-be-ex-husband?"

"Well."

"It's settled, then. You'll stay at the flat until you find somewhere else to live. As long as you'd need or like."

"It's so generous, I can't..."

"I can do as I please, Granger."

"I shouldn't argue with you. You refuse to lose whatever it is you're after."

He thought of her in the tub, with him, and perhaps sleeping next to her and waking up together and... it was sickening. But possible.

"You're absolutely correct on that point, Hermione."


	7. Chapter 7

"I really don't think this is necessary."

"Nonsense. You could use a little cheering up, he could too."

"I assure you, Malfoy, I will not enjoy an afternoon with Theodore Nott. In fact, I am dreading it as we speak."

"He's changed too, Hermione. You didn't even bother to ask why he's upset."

"What reason would an impossibly rich bachelor have to be upset?"

"Luna just left him after dating for three months."

"Luna?"

"Lovegood. The very one."

Well, that changed things. Luna may still have been a little loony, but she had good judgement in people - and if Theo Nott was high enough on her list to see for three months, he couldn't be terrible.

"Fine. One lunch. After that, we'll see, but next time try not to pick someone who was previously so vile."

"Wasn't I vile?"

Hermione considered the point. "Absolutely. But you're different now."

"And so are they."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stood. "I'd love to stay and chat, Draco, but since you've sprung this last minute lunch date on me, I have to go back to your flat and get ready."

"Your things are already there, I suppose? My elf will unpack for you while you're gone, I assume. Go on then, get back... Theo is waiting." He wagged his eyebrows suggestively, and Hermione had to resist throwing her clipboard at him.

* * *

She opened his door again nearly five hours later, and Draco nearly couldn't speak. She was different even from her previous day in muggle clothes, dressed in a simple navy blue one shouldered dress and black flats, her hair was twisted up and a few curly pieces fell over her bare shoulder. She looked... good.

"Back so soon?"

"Ive been with him for three hours."

"And?"

She sat beside Draco's bed, leaning on it. "He took me to an upscale bistro somewhere in the city. I didn't like the prices, but I loved the food. We caught up, he hasn't really been doing much lately, he and Luna were close. He asked about you and I - it was funny, really. He almost thought there was something between us."

"Yes, funny... but what's the verdict, Hermione? Worth another date?"

She thought about it for nearly an entire minute. "Probably not. He's still hurt over Luna, and he's a little self-centered in a bad way. I didn't really talk much."

"Then we're on to the next one. I've already phoned him - I thought halfway through this afternoon that you'd move on. You're set for dinner tonight."

"What are you talking about? I've only just gotten back from a lunch date! I can't date two men on the same day."

"You can and you will - this man has very expensive, very classy reservations set for nine o'clock sharp. What time is it now, five? Six? I'd suggest you get home and ready yourself. Leave your hair though - it looks nice like that. In fact... you might just have to throw on a pair of heels."

"What are you, my stylist? I'll have to change... this is just a cotton dress, I have something better for a nice dinner or something..."

"He knows you're staying at my flat. He's arranged to pick you up at eight, the both of you can get a drink before dinner and talk. Acceptable?"

"Sure, Cupid. I'll make sure to get right on that. I don't see why you had to schedule them both on the same day. You could have waited until tomorrow."

"Nonsense. Do these all on your day off. Come back to work tomorrow with a full report."

"Is that an order, Draco?"

"Yes."

* * *

"Draco tells me you and Ron divorced."

"We're in the process... we're getting it expedited. Very fast, no drama, no media interference."

Blaise nodded. "Smart move. You'd probably have been stuck in hearings for months if you didn't."

"I thought it was a good idea. It should be taken care of in the next week. It does help, of course, to have a little in with the Minster."

"Of course. If it were in Shacklebolt's power to help you any more, he'd have had it done the moment you requested."

"And wouldn't that have been lovely..."

Blaise smiled, swirling his wine in his glass before taking a sip. "What was it that is bringing on this divorce, if you don't mind my asking?"

"A change of heart, I think. I'll always love Ronald, in a different way I think. He and I didn't have chemistry anymore, we barely spoke... and less than a year into a marriage, we shouldn't have been having these problems."

"Agreed. Not even that far into a relationship, I can tell you. I dated Pansy briefly, but she's a little cold... very distant." Blaise grimaced, Hermione laughed.

"I can picture that."

"Anyone can. I don't see why I didn't beforehand - wasted a good few months on that one."

"And you've been single for how long?"

"A month or so. But it wasn't tough, not like Theo, and not like you and Ron - we split with the utmost civility."

"Blaise, that sounds disgusting."

"It probably is. Now, Draco tells me he's setting you up on dates. Any idea why this might be?"

"I know exactly why. He wants to make up for all of his years of tormenting me by further humiliating me on a series of completely unwanted dates."

"And how's that going?"

"Theo didn't let me get a word in edgewise."

"How does this date compare?" He gestured around them to the restaurant. He'd seen her in her flowy, pale yellow dress and black heels and had immediately changed his plans to an even better restaurant. He could see the color rise to her cheeks.

"Better. Much better."

"I'll have to contact your 'assistant' then. Arrange for another date with his lovely Healer."

Hermione couldn't help it. She smiled.

* * *

"My wards informed me that you didn't return until late last night."

Hermione, now back in her Healer robes and pulled back hair, laughed. "Yes, Draco. Not until when, exactly? I know you've remembered."

"It was after one in the morning. Where the bloody hell were you?"

"Worried, Draco? I was still out with Blaise. He took me to an entirely different place for dinner, even nicer than originally planned, and we were having so much fun talking that he took me to his lounge afterwards for drinks and dessert."

"How is the lounge, by the way? I was supposed to see it this week when it opened..."

"The grand opening was last night, yes. He told me he was fully prepared to miss it to spend more time with me, but then combined the two. It's very nice - chic, to say the least."

"And expensive, as is everything Zabini does. And dark."

"Very. Lit entirely by enchanted candles and a few glowing lights around the ceiling."

"I wouldn't expect anything different. Perhaps I'll take you there once I'm out of this godforsaken place."

"Perhaps. I might already be there with Blaise, though... did he call you?"

"He didn't."

"He will. We're going to go out again some time this week."

Draco remained silent. He hadn't planned on that actually working out. "I see."

"He was such a gentleman, really. I always got the feeling that he was very... regal. But not very kind. He really was. He seems to genuinely be interested in me and my life, unlike Theo."

"I'm interested in you and your life."

"You don't count." _Ouch._

After Draco said nothing for a moment again, Hermione shook her head at him. "I'm just joking. If anyone counts, you do."

That made up for it. "Excellent. As I seem to count for something, how would you like to join me for dinner tonight?"

She smiled. "I'd love to. I'll bring something back when I get off."

"Bring Thai. I've been really in the mood for Pad Thai, among other things..." There was that eyebrow waggle again. Hermione sighed.

"Draco, some things about you will never change."

* * *

"Did you get extra sauce? For the wontons?"

"I did. You only reminded me about a hundred times."

"Anything is more pleasant than this godforsaken hospital food. They call that mess a shepard's pie. Only if the shepard were completely incompetent..."

She followed his pointing finger to a rather pathetic looking bowl of light-colored mess. She wouldn't eat it either.

"I see." She pulled the various containers out of the takeout bag and resumed her previous place on the bed next to him. He made room, smiling.

"Going to assume your place, then?"

She gaped. "I'm sorry, I..."

"No, no, stay! I was joking. You just... seemed comfortable enough coming up here."

"I am."

"Well."

He turned back to his Pad Thai, taking note of the fact that he'd made Hermione blush twice that day.


	8. Chapter 8

"Congratulations Draco - you've made it through a month here."

"And here I thought time had frozen." He smiled at Hermione, who had backed her way into the room, head bent down and scribbling away on a clipboard.

"You'll probably have about a month more - perhaps a little longer. Your bones are healing, finally, but the degree of your internal bleeding hasn't gotten any better. We're still only keeping you alive by pumping you with blood every few hours, and letting it empty out through the tubes where it pools. You may have to have surgery. I would assist in that, my superiors would perform it. That wouldn't be until just before you leave though, your last procedure. We want to get the rest of you in top shape so that you, you know. Survive."

"I'm lucky to be alive right now, aren't I?"

"Extremely. We're still baffled at the fact that you are. If I had found you just five minutes later, you'd be gone. I must have found you just after you were attacked."

"I'm still glad it was you."

She smiled, but Draco could tell her whole heart wasn't in it.

"It's true, Hermione. I... didn't think I'd ever say it myself. It could have been a stranger, or a friend. But it was you, and now you're so much more than either of those, and... I guess I'm trying to thank you, a little more formally than before."

She smiled wider now, shaking her head. "You're welcome. After all this... I would have saved you, even if I'd have seen your face in the alley that night. I wanted to say I'd have left you, but I'm not a monster - you're still a person. I suppose."

"You suppose?"

She shook her head again and took a breath, preparing to change the subject. "Blaise called last night."

"And?"

"He knew you were sending me out with another of your friends tonight, but he wants to take me out tomorrow. Is that alright?"

Honestly, it wasn't. But how was he supposed to say that? "Apologies. My colleague wished to reschedule - for tomorrow. Of course it is - it's... nice to see you getting along."

"It may very well be more than that. He's quite the gentleman, very, dare I say debonair. I'll let Blaise know I'm available the day after, then."

"I've always known this. Blaise and I are one in the same, in this way. On such short notice, though?"

"He insisted on being updated. And Draco, you can't honestly expect me to allow you to call yourself a gentleman. It's preposterous."

He openly frowned. "Just because you're my only object of teasing over the past month doesn't mean I can't be a gentleman. I'd take you out myself, if I weren't stuck in this damned bed."

"No need. Draco, you're just wearing yourself out by pretending you'd give me a chance. Not that I'd want a chance with you to begin with."

Perhaps she thought she was right - but she was so, so wrong.

* * *

He drooled. There was nothing that disgusted Hermione more than someone who couldn't control themselves or stop speaking so quickly that they drooled on their own face. Draco's colleague did this. He was so enthralled by the sound of his own voice, talking about his own company, that he didn't notice that a thin stream of saliva was falling from his lip. They'd been at dinner at a tacky restaurant in the middle of nowhere for over an hour, and he had earlier mentioned taking her somewhere for drinks afterwards. She might enjoy more than a few drinks, but not with him. Her fingers brushed her wand in her purse, nearly ready to curse her foot off for an excuse to leave, and her phone began to ring loudly. Perfect.

"Oh, if you'd just excuse me for a moment, Ralph... I have to take this. It's St. Mungos."

The man nodded, looking slightly disappointed. He had seen this coming.

She rushed out the front door, flipping open her phone to see that it was indeed the hospital. What could they be calling for?

"Healer Granger speaking."

"Granger, your patient suffered a rupture of a rather large artery just a few moments ago... actions are being taken to control it. He was alone when it happened, it weakened him far enough that he very nearly died before using his wand to throw something into the panic button. Where are you?"

"I'm... I was out to dinner. Intending to leave anyway."

A rush of fear hit her. She only had one patient right now - Draco. He'd been bleeding again, probably uncontrollably. She had to get there, he couldn't die...

"I'll inform my friend. I'll be there in ten minutes."

She sent a text message to the man inside. _draco bleeding, must run. thanks for dinner._ She didn't promise to see him again and he didn't respond. At least she wouldn't have _that_ mess to clean up.

Her date had picked her up and she saw no reason to take a cab home for her car - she walked around the side of the building and apparated straight into his hospital room to find him being wheeled out, seemingly unconscious, by three medi-witches. She'd promised to be there in ten minutes. She was there in under one.

"This is my patient, where are you taking him?"

"To the surgical room, we..."

"He's not to be operated on yet. He wouldn't... he wouldn't survive it." She summoned a spare set of Healers robes from a bin down the hall and put them on while pushing Draco back to his room. "The best course right now is a muggle treatment, there's probably a rather large contusion, give him the proper medicines immediately. Mr. Malfoy's is a special case, he was likely cursed at time of accident, wizarding medicine won't help him. There are muggle type injections in the storage room." When the nurse only stared at her, Hermione felt a surge of panic again. "Go now!" The three scurried away while Hermione prepped his IV line for introduction of the new medicines, and as soon as the witches returned she administered them. Using a wizarding device to show internal bleeding, Hermione quickly scanned over Draco's body - his bleeding was back to where it was previously. He would be alright.

"Healer Granger, we just need to do the follow up paperwork now and then..."

"Leave. Now."

She had no idea what made her do it. Perhaps it was the fact that she'd taken such comfort in sitting beside him in the hospital bed, or in knowing how far they'd come in just the month since she'd saved him. Perhaps it was insanity. This was _Draco Malfoy,_ childhood enemy - but he wasn't just that anymore. He was just Draco - he was witty, sometimes a little annoying - but compassionate, he honestly cared about her. He honestly wanted to see her happy. And he'd almost died. A year ago, she'd have celebrated. Now, she shut the door behind her, shut off the lights and wept in the dark room, seeing his face lit only faintly by his bedside monitors. Why was she reacting like this? Time passed. Why had she been crying over this for nearly half an hour? She hadn't even cried this much over leaving Ron yet...

"Don't you die, Draco. Don't you dare die on me now."

Because he wasn't just a patient anymore. He wasn't just annoying Draco. He was more than that. How much more, she couldn't be sure, but...

"Her..Hermione."

Her weeping ceased, she stood absolutely still. It was Draco's voice she heard across the room, from his bed. He was calling out to her. It was vaguely reminiscent of Ron calling her name during their sixth year - with Lavender watching on. This time, however, she was completely alone save for Draco's now waking form in the bed in front of her.

"I know you're there. I heard... I heard you crying."

"I... you were asleep. You should still be."

"Whatever you gave me has me feeling like shit. It literally woke me up with nausea."

"Sorry. I was... it was the only option. Idiotic medi-witches almost took you to surgery, it would have killed you, I..."

"It would have upset you. It only nearly happened and you're obviously upset. Why?"

"Honestly, Draco, I'm trying to figure out the extent of that myself."

"As am I. I'm sorry I made you leave your date."

She laughed slightly, not bothering to turn on the lights but crossing the room to sit beside him on the bed. "You set me up with this one as a joke."

"I thought you might laugh."

"He talked about himself so much that he was actually drooling. It was absolutely revolting."

"Did he mention he's worth about twenty-five million pounds?"

"He still couldn't have paid me enough to spend time with him. And he essentially took me to a hole in the wall restaurant for dinner. There was a cat running around our feet."

"It was funny, then?"

"And dreadful."

"At least I made you laugh." He smiled through the dark, and she could see it faintly in the glow from the monitor. She hadn't been this close to a man in the dark in ages. It stirred things in her she didn't quite want to think about.

"Hermione, you're tense. Go home. Take a shower, or something. Relax a bit."

"I showered before my date, I don't want to mess up my hair too much... I was supposed to be coming in for a six in the morning shift tonight anyway. I was going... to keep watch on you. In case something happened."

"A bit ironic, don't you think?" He did notice that her hair looked nice, now that she mentioned it - she'd tamed her usual curls into a sleek, voluminous mane. _Sexy_ was the first word that came to mind, though he knew she'd torment him forever if he said anything about it.

"Too much so. Perhaps I'll have a drink and come in early. I'll be back around ten tonight?"

"Early to work... if you'd like something to drink, have the elf show you where I hide my liquor. Help yourself to anything, except the bigger bottle of french wine on the right side... it's a rather pricey bottle I'm saving for the most important night in my life."

"What night is that?"

He cocked his head at her, lowering his brows. "You know, I'll know it when I come across it. For now, I have no idea. There's some good firewhiskey in there, a few hundred pounds a bottle... help yourself. And bring some back!"

"That's not a terrible idea. In fact, I'm going to just run back and get it... my nerves are a wreck after tonight, I don't... I could use a drink or two."

She slipped off the bed and disappeared with a crack. Draco stared at the place where she'd been for a few minutes, entranced.

She'd been crying, over him. She was terrified of him dying. She'd snapped at nurses who were careless with his life, and ordered them out of the room even for routine documentation. She'd admitted that she was upset over his bleeding, over almost losing him. What for? Perhaps he'd been a confidante, but had Ron really been that much of a brick wall that her talks with himself had been that valued? She reapparated into the spot where she'd just left, a bottle of the firewhiskey in hand.

"Draco, you have to swear that nobody will ever - _ever -_ hear about this. I could get fired."

"You could get tipsy. Secret's safe with me. You're my savior, at the moment. Hopefully this kills a little of the pain."

"I'd give you pain medication. But it doesn't work well with the medication that stopped your bleeding..."

"Understandable. Instead, we drink." He patted the spot next to him, and she climbed up, transfiguring two paper cups on the sink into plastic drink glasses, and water from the tap in the sink into ice. Handing them to Draco, who'd had nearly as much trouble unstoppering the bottle with the IVs in his hands getting in the way as she'd had finding his elf in the dark (she still hadn't found the light switch), she waited eagerly until he poured them two full glasses.

"One for now, probably another for later." He raised his glass, peering into her eyes. "Cheers."

She looked at him over the top of the glass - rings under his eyes from the blood loss and reconstitution, from no sleep, from whatever else. "Cheers."

They each took a long gulp off their glass, nearly finishing it in one.

"Granger... didn't know you could drink."

"There's plenty you don't know about me, Draco."

"Like what?"

"For one, I'm only a Healer because I had no idea what I really wanted to do. What about you? What should I know about the enigma that is Draco Malfoy?"

"After Graduation, when my parents were arrested, every knut in my parents account almost went to my uncle, because I was involved in 'Death Eater activity'. I had to prove my own uncle was a full on Death Eater to get my inheritance. Kingsley is the one who signed it over, in the end. I think he always knew..."

"That you were good?"

"Yes. I also... I want to be a healer."

"Why on earth would you subject yourself to that?"

He shrugged, took another pull of his drink, and chuckled. "In case you need saving one day."

She couldn't find words to respond to that - from the oddness of his statement or from the fact that his good firewhiskey was easily affecting the both of them already, she couldn't be sure.

"Hermione, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why did you trust me? When I asked about you and Ron? You could have blown me off for two months and been done."

She paused, taking her own drink before answering. "You asked. I mean, if you didn't care, you wouldn't ask. If you were out for me, you'd have found out the information much more resourcefully. But you asked, and I could see it in you - in your eyes. You cared."

"You know I actually care about you."

That stunned her as well. She finished her glass now, and he followed suit. The subject wasn't something either of them wanted to touch on, not sober.

"I know... you care. I may not understand how much or why or anything, but I get it. If I didn't, I'd be sleeping on Harry's couch and certainly not having such a good time right now."

"I'm glad you know. Another question... what do you think of Blaise? Not about him, really, but about... your dates."

What was it about these questions that made her want to keep drinking? She poured them both another glass, sloshing just a bit onto the blanket she'd had bunched onto her lap. "I think we may go on more. He's genuine, and I figured if you'd changed after the war, anyone could. He calls me. We talk. It's better than my relationship with Ron was, and he and I were married."

"But you and I talk - I'm genuine with you. I called you. Mostly, I see you every day. Where's the difference?"

"Are you asking in terms of why I'm using these as reasons for Blaise, or why I'm not dating you, Draco?" She couldn't stop the question before it was already out. As soon as she'd said it, they both turned away from each other. Was it the firewhiskey, or the elephant in the room? A topic neither quite wanted to breach, even now? The firewhiskey definitely had something to do with it - both being two full glasses in, they were more than drunk.

"It's... I mean, if I weren't in the hospital, would you date me?"

"I don't know. I'd be able to answer that if you weren't. But you're my patient."

"And your friend, who cares about you."

"You keep using that - caring about me. But what do you mean by it?"

Draco had nearly had enough. It was the alcohol, absolutely, that was fueling his speech. He likely wouldn't remember it in the morning, and from the slur of Hermione's speech, she wouldn't either.

"I mean it by, I guess, I fancy you a little. I hate it as much as you probably do, I'm only saying it in the first place because I'm on the biggest bender I've seen in months, but I do. You... have nice hair. And you don't still hate me, even though you should."

"I can't believe this."

"I can't either. Ron would probably have my arse if he knew."

"I'll admit, that would.. that would be funny. Ron finding out you fancy me. You fancy me!" Her eyes went wide and she began to laugh in earnest, in a moment's time he found he could not help but follow. The idea was a little preposterous. The two of them sitting alone in the dark, he admitting school boy-like feelings for her. Her laughs slowed, then ceased, but as she looked at him again, something changed in her eyes. He could feel her gaze turn into something new, something he hadn't seen her with before, like she was really trying to think of something she'd forgotten...

Before he knew it, her arms were wrapped around his neck, her lips pressing into his. He had two choices then - to go with it, to satisfy himself and his heart, or to back off - to do the thing of a gentleman. In the end, he chose the former - screw being a gentleman. Draco had something to prove. He moved his mouth against hers, laying her back on the hospital bed beneath him. She clutched at his shirt, he removed it. She fumbled with his sweats, he drew them off for her. She took off her own dress. The sudden contact of skin on skin nearly shocked them both out of their drunken trance - but she shook her head, whispered something under her breath, and rolled them over again, straddling him.

Draco had to admit, this was the strangest feeling he'd ever experienced. Yes, he'd fancied her, yes he'd noticed she was attractive, but never in his dreams did he imagine she'd be throwing herself at him like this. He pulled his lips from hers and whispered into her ear.

"Are you sure you know what you're getting yourself into?"

She shook her head. "Not entirely. But I won't remember this tomorrow anyway, and drunken words are sober thoughts... I'll leave it with you and you can remind me another day if you so wish."

He felt her fingers running on the edge of his boxers. He hadn't been with a woman in at least a year, the touch drove him nearly mad. He pushed her hands aside, removing the article in question and baring himself to the cold air of the hospital room.

"Shit, it's freezing in here. Don't be mistaken by current size Granger, I'm actually..."

A small, warm hand wrapped around him without notice. He felt his pulse drop to the proper place, hardening already. "Whoa. That's..."

"Draco, shut up. We do not need to talk ourselves through this, please just don't, I beg of you..." He silenced her with a kiss, reaching his hands back down to her body, removing what little bits of cloth she had still covering her. She was rather attractive without clothes on. He'd have to remember that - her, just as she was, sitting atop him, the air freezing them both to death. What would the Draco of two years ago have said to this? He didn't have time to think about it. She was raising up and lowering herself onto him. His last conscious though was that if the Draco of two years ago had known what a euphoric, fantastic feeling Hermione gave him - he may have gotten on board sooner.

* * *

Letting her forget in the morning was not an option - instead of leaving for a hospital bunk, she'd fallen asleep next to Draco. He woke, feeling her warm body in contrast with the cold air, and swore.

"Shit."

"Hmm?"

"Hermione, I..."

He let her find out for herself. Her eyes flew open, to the sheet she was wrapped in, to her clothes on the floor beside the bed. "Oh, dear gods no."

"I'm... afraid so, I suppose. How much of last night do you remember?" He was referring to him having feelings for her - and to the fact that she'd kissed him first, in response.

"I remember... everything we talked about. I remember snogging you. And bits and pieces later. Oh gods, my head. I'm going to die."

"Have you never had a proper hangover?"

"I never drink that much - not enough to sleep with you! Oh, the divorce isn't even final until tomorrow, I have a date with Blaise tonight, my hair is atrocious... what time is it?"

The clock on the wall read six-fifteen. Fifeen minutes after Hermione was supposed to report for her shift. She jumped from the bed, dressed in Healers robes, and stuffed her date dress into his cupboard with his bag. "I'll be back for this later. You... don't speak of this. To anyone."

He nodded solemnly, watching her leave. She didn't come back for the rest of the day.


	9. Chapter 9

The handle felt cool under her fingertips. She could turn and leave right now, without daring to enter his room. Hermione hadn't seen Draco all day - not since she'd left that morning, red faced and absolutely mortified. She'd never done that before - not the act, but the randomness of the act and who she'd done it with. That was unlike her, they both knew. The damn firewhiskey... she could always blame that. But she couldn't blame anyone else if she left her patient alone too long and something happened to him while she was supposed to be on duty. The shades were let down on the window looking into his room. She couldn't tell if he was awake or not, but it was a chance she'd have to take. She pushed down on the handle, leaned into the door, and cautiously stepped through. An immediate awkward comment was not spoken - he was sleeping. She could vaguely see the sheets rising and falling over his bare chest in the striped light from the window. His breathing was even and slow - he was definitely asleep, an open newspaper still barely clutched in his hand. He looked like a statue then, like a man sculpted of ivory, with worry lines and slight bruising everywhere. It was beautiful and terrifying - two words that could be used to describe the person in question, as well.

Despite what had happened the night previous, the man lying in bed was still Draco Malfoy, childhood tormentor and Long Term Ward Prat of the Year. He'd made her mostly miserable through half of her times at Hogwarts, his own family had tortured her, he'd called her so many names and made so many crude comments that she wasn't sure she could have ever forgiven him, if it hadn't been for the last month. But it happened - the last month - and it had changed everything. Now he wasn't revolting, cruel, and cold - he was charming, and caring, and dare she think it? Sweet. He was sincere. Embarrassingly honest. A good listener. A friend.

Yes, she'd gone on a rather terrible six hour bender with him. She'd never had that much alcohol in her life. Yes, part of her wished she hadn't jumped on him so desperately as she had, but other parts of her (including parts of her brain) strangely didn't regret it. Besides the fact that he'd been so gentle with her, he'd made it a night she'd never forget, ever. And that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she supposed. She was single now. And she answered to no one. Draco had only been the second man she'd ever slept with. But he'd been so tender, almost like he felt...

No. Now she was letting her mind run away with her. Draco Malfoy may have changed drastically, but he would never develop feelings for her - he'd probably rather she'd have left him in the alley to die, before that happened. She wanted to leave him something, to let him know that she stopped by - for his sake or hers, she wasn't sure. The answer came to her with a smack. Really, she was stupid for not thinking of it before. The charm she'd placed on the room, on Draco's first night in St. Mungo's. Only she and Draco could see anything she wrote in that room. Which made sense, considering the medi-witches hadn't known last night that he couldn't go into surgery - she may have written that part in on his charts while she was in the room. She'd have to modify it a bit.

She tore the top piece off her notepad with header, scribbling a note to Draco in the last five minutes before she was due to be picked up out front by Blaise. They were going on their second date, and she was actually looking forward to it quite a lot - even after everything that had happened the night before. She retrieved her dress from the cabinet with his things, changed in his bathroom, and slipped quietly out of his room, out of St. Mungo's, and into the waiting arms of Blaise Zabini. With a quick, but not unintimate hug, he opened her door and shut it for her, entering his own drivers door not a minute later.

"You look lovely, Hermione." He kissed her hand, and she could feel the color rising to her face.

* * *

"So your divorce is final, in three hours? Cheers."

"It is. Cheers." They clinked glasses - Blaise had decided to take her out for dinner before taking her to his club, and they were celebrating with champagne. It was their second glass a piece.

"To Hermione Granger - once again Granger, actually, instead of Weasley - and to newfound happiness."

She immediately began to think that yes - happiness was definitely possible, now. With Blaise or with someone else, the subject was too confusing to dwell on at that moment.

* * *

_Stopped by on my way out, I apologize for not coming in earlier. But honestly Draco, what were we thinking? I'm aware that I made the first move, that I brought back the firewhiskey - we can blame the entire thing on me, if you want. I was obviously a little desperate for sex, though I never thought I would be that or admit that. If you remember anything about last night, please tell me what you know. I apologize for any inappropriate conduct - as your Healer, that was very unprofessional of me, this whole friendship has been. We'll need to talk about it eventually, I suppose. Or not at all. I'll be back after my date with Blaise to check on you again. - Hermione Granger_

It was almost depressing, almost revolting. The civility, the manners, the use of the words 'inappropriate conduct' and 'desperate' and 'unprofessional'. To hell with unprofessional - Draco hadn't had so much fun in years, and he would be damned if he let that slip away from him. Her divorce was now final. She was a single woman, he'd stated his intentions, and he was going to do whatever he could, confined to his bed as he was, to make sure that at the end of it all, she chose him.

* * *

"Have you actually considered that he's not a terrible person, Harry?" Hermione's best friend sat across from her, his face buried in his burger. He'd been starving, so she took him to her favorite old fashioned diner with the biggest hamburgers she knew of. He finished chewing, cocked his head to the side, and sighed.

"I guess. It's been years, really. He did defect at the end of everything - I think even by sixth year, he was on our side. He was just afraid."

"The problem with Draco, Harry, is that he's still kind of a prat."

"I'm confused. Weren't you just telling me that he's changed and he's kind of great and that I should consider him differently?"

"Yes. But then I remembered that I have good reason to be very... frustrated with him at the moment."

"Could you be any more cryptic?"

"Perhaps."

Harry took another bite and simply stared. If he knew Hermione at all, she would cave in and explain whatever it was she was referring to in five, four, three...

"Harry, there's something I should tell you."

"I was waiting."

"Something happened."

"Something big."

"I slept with Draco."

He couldn't process that yet. He took another bite.

"Harry!"

Through a very large bite, Harry grumbled. "What?"

"I tell you that I slept with Draco Malfoy, and you take a bite of your hamburger?"

"I can't think right now. Let me..." He swallowed what was left of the bite, took a sip of water, and sighed. "Better. Now, would you like to explain to me what on earth caused you to do something like have sex with Draco Malfoy? Mind you, I can deduce that this happened while you were at work, in a hospital bed."

"Firewhiskey."

"Oh, that's loads better. So you slept with Draco Malfoy - but you were drunk, so it shouldn't really count? I can't pretend to be angry, Hermione - in fact, I almost find this a little funny. But really? Draco Malfoy?"

"Honestly, Harry. I don't know what came over me."

"I don't either. Aren't you dating Blaise?"

"That's the worst part - I am. And things are going relatively well on that front. I really enjoy my time with him."

"Blaise was never a Death Eater - I will try not to judge. But you know that if this ever got out to the public, you'd be ruined? It would look like one giant affair - you cheating on Ron with Blaise _and_ Draco."

"Don't remind me."

"Do you fancy him? Draco, I mean?"

"You're joking."

"I have to ask."

Now it was Hermione's turn to take a bite of her sandwich and consider her answer carefully. Harry's mouth turned up into a grin.

"I knew it! You do. It's barmy, I won't lie, but I had a feeling when you told me you'd slept with him..."

"It's not funny!"

"It is! It's ridiculous. Hilarious, almost."

"If you weren't my best friend, Harry, I'd hex you into next Tuesday..."

"But I am, and you obviously respect my opinion enough to tell me. And you know what I really think?"

"I almost don't want to know."

"You haven't cried."

She stared.

"What I mean, Hermione, is that if you honestly hated it and hated Draco, you'd likely be crying right now - or otherwise hysterical. You're not. Since I'm admitting that he's changed and he's not such a terrible person anymore, can you admit that maybe you didn't hate it, at least? That perhaps there's a part of you that maybe fancies him, just a little?"

"I'm beginning to hate _you_."

Harry grinned. "Only because I'm right."

* * *

Blaise was fifteen minutes late - she only had a few hours before she was due to get back to St. Mungo's for her late shift, and she wanted to be able to see him and get drinks before she had to leave so early. When he finally arrived, she realized her nerves were in knots. She'd just been to see Harry yesterday. After their conversation, everything - Blaise, Draco, everything - was beginning to make her very nervous. She had an odd feeling that something was going to happen soon, something she couldn't change. Blaise drove up before she had the chance to think about it any longer.

"You look lovely."

"But you always say that." She smiled a weak smile. "I'm exhausted - my late shift last night was full of emergency patients. I have a tonic to help wake me up in my bag, I'll have it before work."

"Drinks still?"

"I need them, now."

"Excellent."

At his club, they took their drinks into his private office upstairs. The music was dulled considerably through the floor and through the walls, though the office protruded out slightly over the bar and floor. Blaise swirled a martini in his hand, handing another to Hermione.

"To another fantastic date. And to, hopefully, more."

He smirked at her and she carefully clinked glasses, pulling her own back to take a slightly bigger sip of the concoction. If there was one thing she loved most about Blaise's lounge, it was their signature drink. It was Emerald Green, made with Midori Melon Liqueur, and was charmed to get darker and darker until the last sip, which was pitch black. In minutes, she'd finished two.

"Thirsty, Hermione?"

"Stressed. It's been... a long day. To say the least. I still have to go back in and check on Draco before I go home."

"I think Draco can handle himself for a night."

"It's my job. Personally, I know he's been fine all day, but I haven't really been in to check on him. I was... busy."

"A Healer's work is never done, I suppose. Constantly getting new patients?"

"Yes. Mostly I just take care of Draco though, I'm his direct healer."

"How on earth did that happen?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Hermione, I'm both terrified and amused. Draco would do anything he can to get a rise out of you at this point."

"I was the one who found him, after he'd been attacked. His appearance was changed, he'd been hexed and cursed and beaten the old fashioned way. I brought him in, the second he was awake he was making fun of me. At first I was dreading being his healer, but then he said something that irritated me, so I volunteered for the job because I knew I could really bother him while he was in."

"Have you succeeded? Draco could use a good bother." Blaise smirked.

"We annoyed each other for four days, and now he's playing matchmaker. It didn't go exactly as I'd thought it would."

"That's the Draco I know - turns any situation into something he can personally enjoy."

"He's got internal bleeding and his bones still aren't mended all the way. Just last week he ruptured an artery and almost bled to death."

"You're worried about him."

She looked up at Blaise - her date, a very handsome man - and saw something like jealousy in his eyes. She wouldn't comment on it. "Yes, of course. I get paid to worry about him. It's my job."

Blaise's smile returned, his frown gone for a while. He glaced at the clock above her head. "It's nearly one in the morning. We've got another hour until you're due to return to work. Would you like to go get some coffee? Wake up a bit before you go?"

"That sounds lovely." As if on cue, her phone started to ring. "Oh! Pardon me, let me just get this..."

It was St. Mungo's. That could only mean one thing... "Healer Granger speaking."

"Return immediately. This is Healer Rathbone. Draco's developed an infection in the puncture wound from his broken rib... his fever's at one hundred six. I've got him on an IV and antibiotics but..."

"I'll be right there." She clicked her phone shut, looked at Blaise, and only had time to utter a few mismatched sentences.

"It's Draco - infection. Emergency. One hundred six fever!"

"I'll call you tomorrow. Go!"

She turned on the spot and immediately found herself knocking over half a group of nervous looking medi-witches, all holding clipboards. She lifted the blanket, damp with sweat from his fever, and saw it - a greyish green area, a bit crusty, surrounding his puncture wound. How had she not seen this last night? She couldn't worry about that yet, she had to fix him -

"Drop your boards! He needs an ice bath, now. Go back into the muggle medicine storage, there's a box labeled fever reducers, pump that into his line. Add in a double vial from the box labeled anesthetics, we're going to have to cut out the infection - there's no other way. Bring me a scalpel, and gauze, and a pan, and plenty of water and cleaning agents."

The little group shot off in every direction and Hermione was able to get her first full glance at Draco. His face was pale as the sheets he lay on, and a thick layer of sweat gave his face a sickly sheen. His eyes were shut tight, though he was mostly asleep from the effects of the high fever, he was in great pain. She cast a quick numbing charm on his rib area and directed nurse after nurse as she ran in, administering medications and hydrating fluids and antibiotics. When at last the scalpel was in her hand, she hastily but extremely carefully cut out as much of the infected area as she could. She cast a sealing charm on his skin, cleaned up what hadn't closed, and bandaged him up with gauze. After treating the area, she checked the IV and sent the nurses out of the room once more. It was just her and Draco now, and he was beginning to stir.

The color returned to his cheeks, he was no longer writhing in pain. She wiped his face and chest with a damp cloth, and he responded to the cold temperature of the water - all good signs. When at last his eyes fluttered open, he had to check twice to make sure it was actually Hermione standing at his bedside.

"Hermione..."

"Draco! How could you not tell me you were starting to get an infection! You very nearly died! Don't ever scare me like that again, your fever was one hundred and six, you, you..."

"I almost died. Again. It's not something I can help, really. The area was just a little red this morning."

"It could have come from your lungs. We're running medicine through your IV as I speak. It should cure the infection. I can't believe it came on so quickly, I was just out with Blaise and Healer Rathbone called and I knew, I knew again that something had happened to you."

She sat on her stool on the far side of the room. She couldn't possibly sit near him right now, the overwhelming mix of emotions going through her head and her heart were enough to make her nearly sick. He said nothing more for a few moments, only stared directly ahead at the door. There were nurses peering in intermittently, tuttering and tottering away. He waited nearly half an hour before he glanced over again to see her lying face down on her arms, her chest and back heaving. She was crying.

"Hermione, I..."

"I don't know what this is, Draco, but I can't handle it. You sending me off on little dates after my split with Ron was fine. This... whatever it is? I can't handle it. I won't."

"And what do you propose we do then? Not speak? Not see each other for a while? If you can't remember, _you're my healer._ There's nothing either of us can do about this situation, but if you feel that strongly opposed to having any sort of attraction to me, I'll leave. I can be transferred to a different ward or a different hospital. Money can do that, if you're so absolutely disgusted by me."

It was his turn to feel the pressure behind his eyes. But what the hell was he crying for? What had he expected? Yes, she was bloody brilliant and a great shag and absolutely gorgeous. Yes she made him laugh like no woman ever had and remembered to bring extra sauce when they got wontons and let him teach her to use chopsticks. But she was smart, and beautiful, and driven - what on earth would give him the idea that someone like her would be interested in someone who caused her such pain for so many years? Someone who had money, perhaps, and looks - but without an ounce of good deed doing in his body.

"Just leave, Hermione."

"I can't. I'm your Healer. You know that's not what I mean by saying I can't handle things. You know that I'm not... disgusted by you. Last night should have proven that. It's something much different. But sleeping with you, Draco? After a month of friendship and a bottle of firewhiskey? After takeout and tests? I don't know if I'm ready for something..."

"Something that makes you happy? Fine. We'll keep this entirely professional then. As you'd like. I suggest you go spend your free time in the Healer's lounge then, instead of my hospital room."

She got up and left. Nothing had ever hurt Draco Malfoy quite so much.


	10. Chapter 10

"I should apologize."

"Bugger off."

"Watch your tongue."

"But oh, _Healer Granger,_ what do you have to apologize for?" He couldn't help it. Staying mad at her was immensely difficult. Draco let out a sigh, turning towards her for the first time since she walked in that morning, the morning after she'd walked out on him.

"For leaving." For not doing a full inspection every day as I should have. For... turning against you like that."

"What do you mean?"

"Something happened between us that night, still does, and I shouldn't have been so..."

"Harsh? Dismissive?"

"Yes."

"Alright then. Dinner at six?"

"Draco!"

"The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. But a good apology would come in the form of Thai. And don't forget..."

"Extra sauce for the wontons. I know." She smiled a weak smile at him and walked out, shutting the door softly behind her. He was pleased.

* * *

She was there at six-thirty, takeout bag in hand. He was excited to see her, really, after their spat from the night before. He was going to talk to her about it, somehow. He had to. After their night together, he hadn't been able to sleep, or think, or eat properly. Moments kept replaying themselves in his head, and he smiled after every one. Wasn't that a sign in itself? She sat up on the bed facing him, and after a moment, ran out of things to say about her day. She switched topics, to talking about her short date with Blaise. She talked about seeing Harry. She wouldn't stop talking on her own, so Draco did the only thing that seemed logical in his head at the moment - thought it really wasn't all that logical, under the circumstances. He kissed her.

She responded immediately, her lips allowing themselves to be tamed by his own instantly. He knew she'd been thinking about it, about them, and that's why she wouldn't stop talking - she was trying to keep them away from the subject, while he was trying to confront it. She pulled away, and he grinned.

"What on earth was that for?"

"You, Hermione, would not shut up."

"I beg your pardon!"

"You wouldn't stop talking. And I've been trying to get a word in edgewise."

"So you kissed me?" She took a bite.

"Mhmm."

"I'll never understand you."

"I want to talk to you about the other night."

She swallowed what she'd just finished chewing, and looked like she might choke on it. "Oh."

"Yes, _oh_. That night. The night that, after about a month of being decent friends, you jumped on me. And I liked it."

"You did?"

"Well I didn't exactly push you off, did I? I was more than willing." He figured that was as close as he'd get to saying something of meaning, but he was wrong. "And I sort of fancy you, a little bit."

"I know."

"What?"

"You told me, that night. You were completely wasted."

"Oh."

They fell silent. Draco used the last of the wonton sauce.

"I can't believe I told you that."

"You did. And honestly, Draco?"

"Yes?"

"It scares me. Because I'm not turned away by it."

He figured that was as good as he'd get towards her saying she fancied him too. He took it.

* * *

"Draco has been a good patient, then? Good boy." Blaise smirked over his drink, and Hermione laughed.

"Yes, he's been really great actually. Hasn't given me _too_ much trouble. Usually."

"He'll probably do something stupid eventually. If anyone knows Draco's errors, it's myself."

She kept quiet - of course, what Blaise didn't know was that he'd already done something stupid. He'd messed with her head and her heart, and she didn't know if she was ready for it.

"Mmm, yess. I figure he will. She started to take another sip, but felt strangely sickened by it. "I hope you don't mind, I don't think I'll finish this drink."

"It's only your first."

"I know, I just... I'm not feeling quite well."

"It's no bother." He vanished the glass and slid closer towards her. "Just leaves more time to spend with you."

She smiled, settling into his side. "Blaise?"

"Hmm?"

"We've been dating almost a month, correct?"

"We have."

"What do you think about it all?"

He took a sip of his drink, knitting his brow. "You know, I'm not terribly sure. I enjoy spending time with you. You're smart, and beautiful, and you've got a killer wit."

"But?"

"I don't know if the spark is there."

She didn't know whether or not to feel elated or saddened by this. On one hand, she was a little disappointed - Blaise could have been just what she needed, someone to take things slow with, to test the waters after her divorce. On the other hand, that took care of the Draco vs. Blaise problem. Not that she'd ever really choose Draco. Probably not. Maybe.

"Do you think... we could try something."

He grinned at her - he knew where she was going, and set down his drink, turning to face her. "Do you want me to snog you?"

"Yes."

He did. But where she was used to a fluttering in her rib cage - where she'd felt such a warm shock to her system when Draco had kissed her - there was nothing there with Blaise. They both sensed this and pulled away.

"Nothing. You?"

"Same. Blaise?"

"Yes?"

"Let's just be friends. I like this... dating. After the divorce, I've had a rough time. But... I enjoy spending time with you, whatever the circumstances."

"And I with you. However, for circumstance's sake, I say we don't let Draco in on this. He's troubled enough as is, and knowing that he failed to set the two of us up properly won't be pleasing."

It was the perfect solution - she'd have time to think over her feelings for Draco while pretending to still date Blaise. She'd be seeing Blaise, of course, so continuity wouldn't be an issue. And she'd have a fantastic new friend to spend time with and talk to. Perhaps, though, she might not drink - she'd been feeling a little unwell lately.

"I think that's excellent, Blaise. It's perfect, really, moreso than you know."

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her, and she shook her head.

"Nothing of too much importance. Just time to settle things. And I do enjoy seeing you, so it'll be beneficial to all parties."

"It's like a business agreement, but I get to spend time with such a lovely person as yourself."

If there had been chemistry at all between Blaise and herself, she'd have swooned on the spot.

* * *

"Harry!"

"Ah, I hear shrill screaming. You sound worried, Hermione." She'd apparated into his apartment after her date with Blaise, and he was doing exactly what she thought he'd be doing - watching muggle television.

"He kissed me again. Draco kissed me again. "

"And?"

"I'm terrified, Harry."

"You liked it."

"You have no idea."

"And?"

"Hermione, I've known you for a decade. I know when you have something else to say."

"Well, alright. I was having dinner with Draco and he kissed me and it scared me senseless. And he admitted he... he fancies me. And I sort of admitted that I don't hate the idea."

"But aren't you dating Blaise?"

"I'm getting to that! Afterwards, I had already had a date planned with Blaise, and no matter how much I wanted to go home and sleep forever, I had duties to uphold. We talked, and figured out we really don't have any chemistry at all. We're just... good friends. Intelligent and witty and everything. And we like spending time together, but then we tried kissing to make sure, and there was... nothing. Nothing at all. And I'm pretty sure he knows something is up with Draco, he's not an idiot, but he didn't let that on to me."

"Wow. Two in one night?"

"Harry, that's all you got out of that?"

"Mhmm." He smiled, and she swatted his arm.

"You're an insufferable arse."

"And you have mushy feelings for Draco Malfoy."

"Git."

"Brainiac."

"I love you too, Harry."

He laughed and pulled her in for a hug. "Good."


	11. Chapter 11

Three sharp knocks. No wait. The knob turned. So, Blaise was here.

Draco straightened himself up, pulling the blanket slightly farther up his chest to cover the worst of his scarring there. "Nice of you to drop in, unannounced."

"I only do things unannounced, Draco. Always the power of surprise."

"I see. Blaise. You could have come in sooner..."

"I'm afraid I've been much too busy. Club opening, dating Hermione Granger... but you knew all that."

"We talk."

"I'm aware." A smirk crossed that bronzed, perfectly sculpted face. Damn Blaise, and his perfect face. He could see what Granger saw in him, until Blaise laughed. It was the one thing Draco really hated about his best friend - the dull, eerie chuckle he mistook for actual laughter. He hadn't seen Blaise laugh a day in his life. All he knew were cheeky smirks and sharp come backs and...

"Draco?"

"Yes? Sorry. Tired. It's been a long day, I'm on new medications."

"Apparently. You look like a ghost - moreso than usual."

Draco made a face, observing his arms. Alright, he was a little pale, maybe a little more than usual. Not everyone could pull a Blaise Zabini and constantly look as if they'd just strolled in off the beaches of Italy or Spain or Brazil, as Blaise did every summer. "Fine. I haven't been outside in nearly two months. I'm sure that counts for something."

"I suppose. Any idea when they'll release you?"

"Even muggle medicines aren't working properly. I was cursed, badly. There's no way of really knowing who did it. The 'muggles' I was with gave me names I wouldn't recognize, likely fake, and snuck me into a dark alley before they beat the living daylights out of me, cursed me, and left me for dead."

"Rough night then?"

Draco knew Blaise was very, well, blase. He knew his best friend was not the most emotional one of the old group. But would it have killed him, in this instance, to show a little compassion? Draco surmised that yes, part of his anger could be caused by the fact that he had feelings for Hermione, who had feelings for the bloody _perfect_ bloke sitting in his hospital room. That could be part of it. Maybe. But it still wouldn't hurt Blaise to at least attempt to act a little sorry for him.

"Right... yes. Yes it was. How has uh... how have your dates with Hermione been going? You're the only person she continues to see regularly." _Except me. Sort of._

"They've been... progressing. In a most interesting fashion." The look on Blaise's face was enough to nearly set Draco over the edge. What was he missing, here?

"How so?"

"Miss Granger and I have been meeting less in public and more in private, if that's what you're getting at. We're going to continue to see each other."

Oh. Well. That wasn't what Draco had wanted to hear, but he couldn't pretend he didn't expect it. Compared to Blaise, what was he? Pale, sickly, and a mistake. Excellent.

"I see. Well... good for you."

Blaise gave that same smarmy chuckle again and leaned back in his chair - charmed, of course, so that the sitter would not fall backwards no matter how far he leaned - and stretched his arms out, bringing them to a fold behind his head. "Yes. Very good for me, if you know. I like seeing her. I'll admit, I don't have serious feelings for the girl - how could I, in her circumstances? But she's charming - good looking, even."

It took everything in Draco to not lash out. He'd never been one for protecting anyone, really, but this fierce want to defend Hermione, to stop whatever Blaise was saying, was killing him. He could feel the anger stressing him out, quickening the pace of his heart. He could feel his pale cheeks flushing slightly.

"Draco, are you blushing? No need to worry. Hermione's needs are being satisfied. She's happy." That _fucking smirk._

"I see. Blaise?"

"Hmm?"

"It's probably best that you leave my hospital room. Now. If you speak a word of this conversation to Hermione, as soon as I get out of this hospital bed, you'll be taking my place. Don't hurt her Blaise or I swear on Merlin's beard I will _kill_ you."

"I see. I had a feeling this might happen. Enjoy your time with her, Draco. Something tells me you might need it." Blaise stood, never looking back, and shut the door behind him. If he'd have been a second later, Draco might have actually hit him in the head with the hospital telephone he'd thrown at his head.

* * *

She was meeting Harry for lunch at his favorite bistro at noon sharp. She'd been waiting to see him for nearly a week, she was feeling very unsure of herself - a first, for Hermione Granger - and needed someone to bounce ideas off of. He apparated into her flat around eleven forty and insisted that they walk. She reluctantly agreed - still feeling under the weather - and took his arm, allowing them to continue at a stroll's pace. He wound them through the park, where children ran laughing and screaming from their parents to the playground and back again. Something strange filled her head then. _I've been considering the possibility already. What if...?_ She couldn't even finish the thought. She'd gotten queasy just thinking about the possibility that _that_ might be true. It was unnerving. Harry had finished telling her about his day at work, to which she politely smiled and told him that it was just a rough morning, things would get better tomorrow. He weakly returned her smile and turned her down an unfamiliar street. She was in a strange neighborhood, the short walk was exhausting her, and if she wasn't watching it, she was going to vomit all over Harry's shoes - which, for once, did not look as if he'd had them for a decade.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

"Actually, I'm..." She glanced across a stretch of the park to a small building - a bathroom. "Actually, I'm going to head to the bathroom, I'm..." She couldn't finish her statement, she knew the sickness was coming soon. She sprinted the distance, locked herself into one of the bathrooms, and let her breakfast and coffee for the morning come back up. _Note to self: As long as this lasts, STOP drinking coffee and orange juice. Both burn horridly coming back up._ She splashed water on her face and rinsed out her mouth, opening the door to join Harry again. He eyed her curiously but said nothing, and she was glad for it.

Soon, they found themselves seated and ordered in the little bistro, sipping ice water and iced tea and discussing their plans for the upcoming St. Mungo's ball.

"Personally, Hermione, I'm actually looking forward to it."

"Enjoy yourself. I'm not going."

"Are you mad?"

"Probably. I just spend so much time in the place, and I'm not receiving any awards or anything, it's my first year. I've only been invited because we're war heroes, Harry. We'd be in a room of older, stuffy witches and wizards with preconceived notions about us."

"Bad mood, or what?"

"Sorry, harry." She rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. "Bad morning."

"Have anything to do with why you ralphed up your whole breakfast on our walk over here?"

"I did not!"

"You did. I heard you, Hermione. You're not discreet about it, and those bathrooms echo..."

"Harry!"

"Are you sick, Hermione?"

"I don't know."

"Obviously you know something. You won't look at me straight and you vomited for three straight minutes this morning."

Damn. He always knew. "Harry, there's... something I wanted to talk to you about."

"I think I know where this is going... you're..."

"I think I'm pregnant."

"...pregnant. I knew it."

"Harry, this is serious."

"I know. Especially since... Draco was the only one you've been with?"

"Oh yes."

"Oh, no."

"I know, Harry. I know."

"This is terrible. You're not even... the divorce JUST went through, Hermione."

"I'm aware."

"Then how are you going to deal with this?"

"I'm not sure. I can't have it looking like I cheated on Ron, because he and I were already split up by then really, and..."

"What if you faked it?"

"Faked what?"

"I mean, fake that there's a father. Say that you're artifically pregnant."

"You mean artificial insemination? Harry, that's... actually a really brilliant idea. It's perfect. I... I'll say I was depressed towards the end of the marriage. Ron didn't want a child, and I wanted one desperately. I chose a sperm donor and went for it."

"Exactly. No cheating, nothing. Just you trying to get what you want. It's excellent."

"Really excellent. Thank you, Harry. Now, we've just got to deal with the issue that I don't want my child growing up fatherless on purpose. Draco will... need to know eventually."

"It's not a good idea to tell him right now though, is it? With his condition?"

"Not likely, Harry. He'd have a bloody heart attack."

As they finished their dishes, they decided that she would take an official hospital pregnancy test that afternoon. If she was pregnant, they should wait until the bump started showing to tell Draco that it was his, or before he left the hospital - whichever came first. It was up to him if he wanted to support the baby or not, but Hermione's pay was more than enough to cover the both of them. It was the perfect plan. She just had to keep her pregnancy secret long enough to detract media attention for as long as possible.

* * *

"Sorry I can only barely stop in today Draco, they've just assigned me three new patients and I'm on a short shift. How are you feeling?"

"Terrible. I can't breathe. Whatever that last potion was made me feel like my ribcage was trying to constrict and kill me."

"It's helping rebuild your lungs - working them harder is actually helping you. My supervisor developed it last year."

"I hate it. I don't care what it does, I don't want any more of it. I'm already suffocating in here." He flopped back onto his pillows, covering his face with his arms. She laughed a little - it was rather childlike, for Draco, but not entirely unattractive.

"Oh, stop being so melodramatic. I just... oh, gods, not now." Without a moment's notice, she was in his bathroom, vomiting quite loudly. In just a minute or two she was back, apparently having just splashed water on her own face. "Sorry, I'm... not feeling well. I've done that twice today."

"Ouch. I... can't you take something?"

She hadn't thought about that. It was a muggle infliction, but it certainly had a wizard's cure. Of course, by now, everyone who shouldn't have witnessed her sickness had done so. At least she'd stop throwing up lunches that had cost her three full galleons. "Yes. I can. Thanks for reminding me... your vitals look fine. I'll send a witch in to do your paperwork and things. I'll... I'll stop by later, if I can." She gave him a weak smile and opened the door. Before shutting it completely, he heard her start to ask a medi-witch something about her own health - with flick of his wand, the voices on the other side of his hospital door were amplified just loud enough that he could hear them.

"Emma, is that it? Right. I need you to run a few tests."

"On this patient? This room?"

"No, not on a patient. On me."

At this, Draco sat up. What could Hermione need tests for? Was she sick? Was that why she'd thrown up? What was wrong with her? Could they fix it?

"Of course, Healer Granger. What kind of tests did you need?"

"A blood test should do the trick. I don't feel like peeing in a cup, I've been throwing up in enough bathrooms today."

"What exactly should I be searching for?" The sound of a clipboard and scribbling - a test order - was audible.

"You need to keep this very quiet, Emma. I mean this. In fact, label the test a Jane Doe. I'll go in and take it myself when I'm ready tonight. Nobody is to hear of this. You, me, and the tester will be the only ones who know. I'm checking, Emma, to see if I'm pregnant. Do you understand?"

"Yes of course, Healer Granger. I'll put the order in right away, and I won't tell a soul!"

"Excellent." He flicked his wand again, the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach growing by the second. He wished he hadn't listened it. He wished he didn't care about her. He wished that some of Blaise's comments would get out of his head.

_Miss Granger and I have been meeting less in public and more in private, if that's what you're getting at._

_Hermione's needs are being satisfied._

And suddenly, as if the pain of his attack hadn't been enough, Draco Malfoy felt - for the first time in his life - a sort of stabbing pain in his chest, entirely different from the pain from the potion. No, this was centered at his heart. One that he'd just now realized, in this moment, had been Hermione's for quite some time now. And now she was pregnant, likely with his EX-best friends baby, and there was nothing he could do about it. Any of it.

For the second time that day, Draco threw his bedside telephone at the wall. This time, however, he also cried.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione did not return to check on him for over six hours. He didn't expect her to, and at this point, he didn't want her to. Damn her, damn Blaise, damn the lot of them and the child that would likely end up a bastard, fatherless because of it's own fathers irresponsibility and carelessness. Hermione didn't deserve that. Hermione deserved  
better - someone like Draco himself, who would have cared for the child, or at the very least provided for it. Blaise probably didn't actually give a damn about Hermione, he'd said it himself. It was just a bit of fun. Who did Blaise think he was, really? There was a number of people that he could have done that to without Draco even noticing, but Hermione? She'd been his healer, his friend. Hell, Draco had set the two of them up to date, not so that Blaise could hurt her. But then, Hermione hadn't even bothered telling him. She was bloody hiding it from him, sneaky witch. She was going to hurt him too. And then...

"Mister Malfoy?" It was Emma, the nurse from earlier.

"Yes, come in please." The idea was already forming in his head. He'd get them back if it was the last thing he did...

"I've just come to run some routine tests on some of the medical equipment in the room. Is that alright?"

"Perfectly fine. I'd only just gotten off the phone with Healer Granger, she'd mentioned something like this." _Lie.  
_

"Oh, excellent!" She began puttering around the room, performing quiet spells and checking pressures and tubes. About halfway around the room, Draco cleared his throat.

"You know, she was talking to me about something else, while I was on the phone. Her pregnancy?" _Lie. But perhaps he'd find out if she really was..._

"Isn't it wonderful? I always thought she'd be a wonderful mother. And now she will!"

He'd figured. "Yes, _wonderful." And revolting. But now..._ "She will be. Now, since she knows for sure, she'd talked about having a little something at work to announce it... I think she's a little stressed, though. What about surprising her?"

"A surprise party?" The nurses eyes went wide. "That sounds like fun! Would you be helping, Mister Malfoy?"

"Unfortunately, I can't do much from the confines of my bed. I don't get off forced bedrest until Wednesday, and then I can barely walk... It would be just... _wonderful_ , though, if a nurse or two could team up and do it..."

"I can do it!"

"Good sport. How's tomorrow sound? I know she's working the afternoon and night shifts."

"That's perfect, I work then too!" _That had been a lucky guess._

"Excellent. Just pick up paper plates and cups, some punch and cake... I'm sure she'll love it."

"She will! She's going to be such a great mother, I can already tell..."

A vision filled Draco's mind. Hermione, sitting between two small beds, reading a bedtime story...

"Yes, of course. Thank you, Emma. You're such a good friend." _And I'm probably going to hell for this._

Emma finished her business and left the room, talking all the while about what she could do for the party. Paper streamers, a few balloons, a banner or something... and Draco simply nodded, smiling. This would show her. It was petty, he had to admit. But nobody else really knew, for sure. She'd been hiding it. And he could out her, publicly, though not personally. It wasn't that he wanted to _hurt_ her - that was Blaise's job, apparently. He just wanted to show her that someone cared, and that he _knew_. He'd found out without her confiding in him, without her help. It hurt him. But now, she was going to learn.

* * *

"Draco, just came in to check on you... I've only got an hour and a half left in my shift."

She was leaning against the doorframe, smiling. Her hair was up but bits of it fell near her face and ears, something he loved looking at. She was just sort of smirking, shaking her head.

"I hear your ribs and lungs are doing well."

"Yes, actually. I'm feeling alright. You, on the other hand, looked positively sick yesterday."

"Just some... upset stomach, I think. Harry and I had a big lunch."

"You always have big lunches, with Potter..."

"The man loves to eat." She laughed, stepping inside and letting the door shut behind her. "That used to be Ron's post, but he doesn't talk to either of us much anymore, unless it's Boys Night with Dean and Neville and them."

"I see." _Liar._ "I'm actually rather tired, I didn't sleep well last night..."

That was the absolute truth. And finding all of this out on an empty stomach, he'd refused his dinner (too sick to eat) and refused to sleep (as he couldn't possibly stop thinking. Also, he'd cried once or twice. Maybe three times.)

"Oh. I see... well, I'll send in a nurse before I leave, with some pain meds... or I might come by, as well."

He gave her a weak smile. "Sure thing."

The door shut, she'd left. It was only a matter of time now until Emma pulled her away, into a room where most of her colleagues would now know that she was pregnant. She wasn't going to be pleased. A medi-witch came in with today's dinner, and he accepted it. A sort of mushy stew thing in a bowl, bread, and rubbery green beans. He'd have killed to be on good terms with Hermione at the moment, she'd have brought him Thai food, or something...

The hour passed, and there were now only thirty minutes left in her shift. As if on cue, he heard a shout, and loud footsteps.

"No, I didn't talk to him! Not about that! I don't even know how he knows, I was going to wait to tell him... oh gods, this is a disaster... Emma, break up the party, immediately. It was a nice gesture but Draco Malfoy lied to you. This was supposed to be kept a secret..."

The door opened. He saw her now - the hair in front of her face made her look like a mad doctor now, not very pretty. Her cheeks were red, her lips were pursed, and she looked like she could kill. _Uh oh._

"You."

"No, Hermione. You."

"Do you know what you've done? What if the media got a hold of this? I wasn't broken up with Ron yet, I..."

"Then get your big, strong, boyfriend to take care of it. He can pay off the papers. Save the reputation of the mother of his _child_."

"I'd look like I was cheating. This wouldn't go unnoticed. This could ruin me. Draco, you don't even know what you've done. Tricking my favorite nurse into this? Really excellent, Draco. And you don't even know the whole story..."

"She suggested it first, really. I simply... went with it."

"And how did you know, anyway?"

"Before the door shut yesterday afternoon I heard you ordering a test. I thought it might be for me, but then you said it was for yourself. I cast a charm to make your voices louder. Fill in the blanks."

"You're a foul, meddlesome prick."

"And yet you slept with me." The reality of the situation began to hit him as soon as a corresponding realization did. He'd had it all wrong. Blaise wasn't the father... _No._

"And from it came my pregnancy! The baby is yours, Draco. Not Blaise's. He and I... we never slept together. I don't know if he made it sound that way, ever, but we didn't. We sort of just called things off, actually, he suspected I was pregnant."

It was Draco's turn to vomit. How could he have been so stupid? Blaise's comments weren't really meant to be so cruel, he'd just taken them to mean something much worse. They hadn't even slept together! The baby was _his._ He got sick all over his dinner tray, and through her angry haze, Hermione flicked her wand to clean the mess. Tidy as always. She hadn't spoken since the end of her last statement. He hadn't breathed. The pressure in his lungs was back, but it wasn't from the medication. He was an idiot, and he really didn't deserve her, not now. A fucking _party._ What an idiot! How could he not have connected the dates?

"Hermione, I..."

"No. No, Draco. You did this yourself. Do you know what I was going to do? For the first few weeks, I was going to claim that Ron and I had technically split long ago because I wanted a baby and he didn't - technically true. I was going to let it slip that you were my patient and we were spending a lot of time together. Harry had suggested artificial insemination, so I was going to pretend that was the case until the bump started showing. Then I was going to tell you - and everyone else - that 'artificial insemination' hadn't worked, but yours had. It would have been fine. You should be ashamed. You're... you ruined... _everything_."

"Please don't, I... oh, _fuck_." He was sick again. When he raised his head to look at her, to apologize... she was gone.

* * *

She wasn't coming in. He couldn't call Blaise. He didn't have anyone. It had been three days.

She'd been assigning nurses to come after him, to check his meds and record his progress. He'd been doing better than they'd all expected - he could be discharged any day now. His stay in the hospital - and his almost guaranteed time with Hermione - was coming to a close, much sooner than expected. What was he going to do with himself until he heard from her again? She was carrying his child. They could have been a family. If he only had a few minutes to talk to her again. Maybe she'd come see him before he left.

Fate was not that generous. Nurse Emma came in the door with a wide grin.

"Well, trouble maker, it seems your time is up."

"'Scuse me?"

"You're done. The last nurse confirmed it, and I'm here to do a follow up. You're going to be discharged this afternoon."

 _Shit._ "Are you sure?"

"One hundred percent. I have the papers in my hand. All you have to do is sign here... oh and right there." She pointed, he signed. He was practically numb, at this point. He may have just lost his chance.

"Alright. I'll send a Healer in to fill out your final diagnostic papers and you'll be free to leave."

"Is... is Healer Granger in today?"

"I'm afraid not. She's taking a few days off for her first appointment for the baby, and packing her things. She's moving into a bigger apartment..."

"I see."

So he had no chance. He had her number, but she wasn't answering anyway. She wouldn't see him and wouldn't talk to him. He was, to say the least - lost.

"What else has she told you?"

"She admitted to me and me alone that the baby was yours. She thought, at first, that you wouldn't even want your child. But something changed, I think yesterday. I think maybe she realized you really aren't that bad, after all."

But she still wouldn't come see him. He was released from bed. Sore, stiff, and tired, he packed the small bag of things that he'd had Hermione pick up. Where would she be staying, then? He wasn't sure she could get an apartment so fast, but she obviously wasn't staying in his flat anymore. She'd been there for what, a month now? There would be traces of her everywhere, he knew it. And he couldn't decide if he liked it or not.

* * *

After as long as he'd been in the hospital, to _not_ be there was awfully strange. He unpacked his bag, organized his things, and then turned around in place a few times. His own flat was unfamiliar. He almost wanted to go back to St. Mungo's and have his awful dinners brought to him at six every night, and have Hermione come in and check on him on her rounds... not that she'd do that, apparently, after his stupid mistake.

Why had he gone and done that? Angry or not, it was a stupid idea.

He had his elf prepare him dinner, and went into the bathroom to shower and clean up. He shaved, combed his hair, and toweled off before he spotted it.

It was a bottle of perfume. Nothing ridiculously fancy, just a faceted little glass bottle with a black atomizer and tassel. He picked it up and read the label on the bottom - a high end perfumer. He took a sniff of the bottle and immediately regretted it.

Suddenly, his entire flat _smelled_ like her. Soft, floral, a little musky. Feminine, even in her Healers robes, even in jeans and a tank top. God, he missed this smell. He remembered smelling it on her, one night in particular...

No. He couldn't keep letting himself think of her like that. She didn't want him, she'd made that much clear. And _damn_ him for falling for her in the first place. Why would Hermione, incessant do-gooder, Healer, war hero, and all around kind and generous and fucking _beautiful_ Hermione, want _him_? He was the son of head Death Eaters, school boy torturer, meddlesome, sneaky, _stupid git_ Draco.

He stuck the perfume in his medicine cabinet and popped one of the pain pills the hospital had sent home with him. He reached for a box of tissues, pulled back, and then reached again - this time grabbing the box and tucking it under his arm. What was it with him crying all the time? He didn't like the feeling, but he knew he'd probably do it at least once tonight.


	13. Chapter 13

"Sympathetic Pregnancy? You've got to be joking."

"Not at all. It's actually not uncommon - the father, or close male figure, begins to feel side effects of a pregnancy. Something about the closeness of male and female, and hormonal something. He gets aches and pains, mood swings, acute sense of smell, cravings, etc."

Mood swings. That was an understatement. In the last seven days, he'd broken two telephones, a lamp, a glass side table, sixteen dishes, his telly, and his own heart. He'd been craving red wine and cheese crackers, and ice pops. He couldn't stand the smell of eggs, and threw out the rest of the dozen. They'd been a breakfast staple in his life since he was a toddler. And he couldn't stand them anymore. He twirled the cord of the phone - office-style and secured to the wall, so he wouldn't throw this one - and grunted. He'd been on the phone with a witch from a phone-in medical advice hotline for twenty minutes. She had been explaining what had been happening to him.

On day one, he'd vomited violently. That continued for three days. The cravings started on day three. The mood swings had started weeks ago. And the foul smell of eggs had started this morning. It was now that he'd decided to call.

"So what do I do, then? How do I get rid of it?"

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, Mister Malfoy. There's no way to reverse the effects. Take an aspirin and hope for the best."

"I can't just... ugh!" He hung up the phone and felt like throwing it, before realizing he'd proofed himself from doing so. Damn his thinking ahead. A good electronics-tossing would be excellent right now. He slumped into the kitchen, fumbled around in the cabinets for something to get rid of his aches and pains, and halfway collapsed on the couch before remembering he'd busted his television.

_Excellent._

* * *

"I think we should stop seeing each other."

Blaise widened his eyes, but smirked. "Draco?"

"Yes."

"I figured as much." He took a sip off his glass of wine, smirking. "You're both terrible, you know that?"

"I'm aware. He shouldn't have..."

"And you should have. There are definitely two sides to this, Hermione."

"Of course there are, _Blaise_ , you don't need to remind me." Her hand absentmindedly came to rest on her stomach. "I just think that this -" She flicked a finger back and forth between them, "is part of what made him do what he did. I think he was... he thought it was yours."

"I understand. I do admit - openly, and without reserve - that I had come to visit him very closely before all this. And I said a few things that were not meant how they were so obviously taken. He read too far into it."

"I don't doubt that at all."

Blaise rested a hand on her knee, rubbing the area slightly. "I know you never really... had strong feelings for me."

"And the same to you. It was sort of easy to tell. We did have a bit of fun, but... it wasn't there."

"That thing you feel for Draco?"

She hadn't readily admitted it yet - that that _thing_ , that _feeling_ she was supposed to feel with the right person - that she'd felt it with Draco. She remained silent, but Blaise was no idiot - he chuckled slightly. "Gryffindor Princess and Slytherin Prince. I see."

"And the old school bias never leaves. Indeed. He's the _last_ person I ever saw myself falling for like this."

He nodded somberly. He'd never had that - had always wanted it. And here were two people who had finally found it, and were furious with each other. It was a big secret, of course - she was pregnant with Draco's baby - but now that the news was out, couldn't they smooth things over?

"I think you should talk to him."

"Blaise, I don't know, I just think..."

"No. You're pregnant with his _child_ , Hermione. And as much as you think that Draco wants nothing to do with either of you, I know that he's admitted to you that he has great feelings for you. I can see it on your face, when you talk about him. It troubles you."

"But it's _Draco_. Forever blase about life and everything with it. He can't care enough about another person to want this."

"He does, and I guarantee that. Draco is not an emotional person - if he has ever been close to someone, they know that. They know that displays of affection are not common for Draco. Has he been affectionate with you? Unusually kind? Made plans? Or made abstract, seemingly too far in the future, strange plans?"

Yes. To all of the above. She knew that was true. But if what Blaise was saying was right, she'd made a terrible mistake in yelling at him - and in keeping the secret from him. If she'd have just been honest with him, they could have figured things out together. He could have told her all of these things that Blaise was guessing about now. She'd messed up - royally.

"What have I done?"

"Pissed off the father of your child. I suggest you talk to him. Let's get you home - I insist. It's been a long day for you, especially with the extra fatigue. Call him or go see him tomorrow."

She nodded, taking Blaise's hand that he offered to help her up from the couch. They had been at his flat for a little over an hour, simply because she said she 'needed to talk to someone'. He'd known the subject matter before he'd even picked her up - he wasn't an idiot. He'd heart Draco briefly mumble on an angry message that Hermione was pregnant, and as he'd personally done nothing with the girl, he knew it was Draco's. Draco obviously hadn't known the same. He opened the door for her and walked her towards the stairs while she babbled on about her first doctors appointment. She really was pretty, he could definitely see why Draco had feelings for her like he did - and Blaise himself had to admit, he'd entertained the idea of falling for her. She had this glow about her, even before she'd gotten pregnant, and it drew everyone around her in like a moth to the flame.

"I just think that I'll be fine going by myself, really, I've been doing things mostly on my own for quite some time now, I am an adult, and..."

He saw it happening before he could stop it. She'd turned to look at him, to make some headstrong, sarcastic comment, and in the moment that she wasn't looking, she'd lost her footing. Her leg slipped out from under her, her body turned sideways, facing down towards the stairs. He heard the slightest gasp before her face registered the fall, and the split second of eye contact was enough for him to know that what was about to happen was going to change things. He didn't even have time to catch her. She hit the stairs and in one giant leap, he had cleared the six steps between them and swept her up into his arms, apparating to St. Mungo's. She was unconscious when they laid her down in a bed.

* * *

"How could she not _tell_ me straightaway? She's carrying my child! My heir!"

He unstuck the phone from the wall, just so he could throw it. Thought the pounding in his chest and aching throughout his entire body told him to stop, he continued his rampage, tearing through piece by piece of his flat - pulling pictures off the walls, throwing the un-throwable telephone, smashing the newest television, kicking over his coffee table, tearing everything out of his fridge.

Draco wasn't a physically violent or angry person by nature. The darkness had kept him wrapped up and naive for a very long time - he hadn't seen the other side of things until the past few years. He was used to violence, and anger - things that scared him, for some unknown reason, as a child. When he grew older, he realized that it was because these things were inherently _bad_. They were no-no's in the real world, something that was rarely glimpsed at from life within Malfoy Manor. He sighed, sitting down on his couch. His heart was racing still, and irregularly. This was not good. Hadn't the healer who discharged him told him to take it easy over the next month? No stress, no strenuous physical activity? His head was feeling awfully light.

And then he stood, and the pain shot through his chest. His ribcage was nearly on fire, and he looked down to see a bluish red patch forming near the bottom. He had time enough only to make one last decision - hopefully in time to save his own life. The patch was growing - he was really bleeding profusely. He turned on the spot, felt entered the crushing darkness, and remained conscious enough only to make sure that he had arrived in St. Mungo's, before everything went black.

* * *

"It's not good news, Hermione."

Her own supervisor was standing over her bed, clipboard in hand. She hated this feeling - confined to a bed, sick, and weak as all hell.

"You slipped and fell - hard. You knocked your head pretty hard on the step, and you cracked part of your hip hitting another. You lost a tooth, but we put that back in for you last night."

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Two days. We kept you out long enough to heal what we could."

"How are my patients? Are they being cared for?"

"Yes, yes, all fine. You have gotten a returning patient, though. Complications arose from his last stay, and he's back - likely for just another day, perhaps two. Nothing like last time..."

 _Draco._ "The... Malfoy case?"

"The very one."

Nobody had since learned of her involvement with Draco Malfoy. After the pregnancy announcement fiasco, Hermione had made Emma swear to not reveal the identity of the father, and nobody had found out yet. He was back - he was here. And there were... _complications?_

"What sort of complications, if I may ask?"

"You may. He's your patient, again, until he leaves soon. He seemed to do something - we don't know what - that rose his blood pressure considerably. His system was fragile, and we think his ribs hadn't fully healed. There was a lot of bleeding, but no curses this time - easily stopped. He apparated into the lobby and collapsed - frightened half of the attending staff to death. He was fine in minutes, but if he wouldn't have made it here within those minutes... he'd have died. He's conscious now, to say the least... "

He'd come close to dying - the father of her child. And he was back in the hospital. She had to go see him, to talk to him.

"Excuse me, but when might I be taken out of bedrest? I feel like a walk, and I do need to check on my patients..."

"Not until tomorrow - I'm afraid there was another complication with the fall. We couldn't fix all of the damage that occurred."

* * *

"Where's my actual healer?"

"She's not in at the moment."

"I'm aware of that much, idiots!" He shouted at the nearest healer, a taller, younger male. "I don't need nurses! I don't need medi-witches! I need my healer and I need her NOW."

There was a silence throughout the room as the attending staff exited. Nobody was telling him - but why? Where was she? The last to leave was very familiar - Emma.

"Emma, please."

There was a sigh, and the witch shook her head. "I can't. It's hospital policy. We're not supposed to reveal the whereabouts of coworkers if it might chance circumstances in a case, and since I know that you're fathering her child, I can't release the information to you without her written consent."

"Is she here? Is she out of town? Please, Emma... I beg of you. I've never had to really ask anyone for anything like this. I've never cared enough. As a worried future father, as someone who really cares about Hermione - please help me."

"I'll only say one thing - because this isn't enough to claim that I'm directly telling you anything. But you have to know that if I told you where she was and why, I would be breaking two rules - our Workplace Confidentiality Policy that states that I can't reveal the location of another employee, and our Doctor-Patient confidentiality agreement, the one that states that I cannot release information on medical cases to anyone except the patient and the attending healer."

It took him a few seconds to figure out what she was saying - obviously, co-workers couldn't reveal schedules or anything like that of someone else's. Doctor-Patient? But he wasn't looking for a patient, he was looking for the Healer... by the time he looked up to ask the question, Emma was gone.

Moments later, he made the realization - Hermione wasn't the Healer this time, she was the patient. But why?


	14. Chapter 14

Draco had been sitting in this bed for nine days. Hermione was supposed to be here after three. So what had happened? Where was she, and what had happened, so bad that the nursing staff would only look grim and walk away before _  
_

_"Where is he?"_ He knew that shrill shriek anywhere. He could hear it getting closer. Within seconds, his door was flung open, and the woman he'd been longing to see for nearly a week and a half was suddenly in his doorway, haphazardly sticking limbs into her healers robes, hair a disaster, cheeks red. She looked nearly mad. He liked her like this.

"Hermione, finally... they told me you'd be in days ago..."

"Draco! What have you done? You _idiot_. You could have killed yourself!" She was immediately at his bedside, lifting his shirt to check his heartbeat, observing his abdomen for the bleeding he'd come in for. Only once she was personally sure his vitals were alright - and who could trust those _bloody mediwitches_ \- did she stop long enough to sit down. As soon as she did, she cried. He let her. He could tell this would be a long night. When she finally did stop, she only looked more furious.

"Draco, what on Earth happened?"

"You're asking me what happened? After you disappear for over a week? And don't bother trying to contact me and tell me anything? You obviously don't care enough about _me_ to tell _me_ when you've been _admitted to your own damn hospital_ , so why should I tell you anything?"

"Because I can look yours up on your file anyway."

She was right - and damn her for it. She picked up the clipboard, flipping through the pages for clues. "Abdominal bleeding... heart irregularities... bill of clear health administered... two days ago. Why are you still here?"

"You wouldn't bother telling me what was wrong with you, so I stayed around to find out. But _nine days later_ I'm still stuck eating bloody hospital food and getting vital checks while you're god knows where in whatever predicament."

"Don't you dare blame this on me Draco, please..."

"No! You're are _carrying my child_ , Hermione. At the very least, I want to know if you're _alive and well_ , and how the baby is. D'you realize, all I've wanted in life for years, is to be a better father to a child than mine was to me? I want to raise something with a square sense of what's right and wrong, with a well rounded look at life, something my parents never granted me."

"Draco, I..."

"No! All I've ever wanted is this damn child. And then of course, you're the mother, and you pretty much bloody well _hate_ me for it. Because God forbid, you have a child with me... Draco. Childhood enemy. I never got to be more than that to you, did I? That's all I was?"

"Draco, please!"

"I just wanted to know! A note would suffice! But not a word. And your daft nurses won't tell me a word about you or the baby, all I know is you've been admitted and nobody will dare tell me why, for legal reasons or because I'd _RIP THEIR FUCKING HEADS OFF_ , I'm not sure! I am fiercely protective of you at this point, Hermione. You _and_ our child. And how could you ever think otherwise? Have I done something to break your trust? To make you think I was still up to my old ways? I put you up in my home in the first weeks of us knowing each other again!"

"There's more to it, I..."

"And I cared about you, and you cared about me, and in this same _stupid_ room we forged some sort of connection that I can't break, even in my sleep. I _dream_ about you Hermione, about us, and our child! This baby has become my world, and it can barely sense light and sound! If it can even do that yet! This baby is... everything. No. _You_ are everything, for being you and for giving me a child."

"Draco... I lost the baby."

"I... excuse me?" The tension was unbearable. She didn't want to wait for his response.

He felt frozen in place. Lost the baby. Gone. She'd been trying to tell him, and he wouldn't just shut up, and he'd just admitted everything he'd been thinking in the last week. He'd been dreaming about a family - he'd never thought that far into his future before. And there he was, thinking about growing old with Hermione, raising their child. It could have been a son. His son. But now...

"Lost?"

"I... there was an accident. I miscarried." She broke into tears again. This was what had been bothering her when she walked in. Just seeing him was enough to break her to tears. If there was one thing Hermione had learned over the last nine days - by way of about a hundred missed calls, sixty texts, three owls, and eighteen messages sent with nurses - it was that Draco cared. She'd always known that, in a way. She'd just been so afraid to tell him, she was so afraid he wouldn't want it... but she'd have been stupid to think so. She had been. He'd clearly cared. More than she could have known.

"No."

"Yes, Draco."

Draco knew that it was his turn now. His perfect picture of his family, warm summer afternoons, dinners together... torn away. He'd thought he'd seen someone broken when he saw Hermione cry earlier. Now, he felt himself breaking harder than he'd ever even seen her. He cried. And cried. And cried some more. Gods, he'd never really cried before, not like this. Now he knew what it felt like... to be utterly hopeless. There was no light left, just barely a glimmer when Hermione stood, smoothing her hand over his shoulders, attempting to calm him with hushing noises. It wasn't helping. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think. He'd just lost the one thing, the one dream, that had ever mattered. It was finally about to become a reality, and then it was gone. Without him even realizing how, Hermione was suddenly on the bed beside him, crying a little herself. She'd clearly been crying earlier, and plenty - her eyes were nearly as puffy and red as his, and yet he'd never seen her look more vulnerable, more beautiful.

With her arms around him, he buried his face into the crook of her neck, and cried until he drifted off to sleep. He wakes often throughout the night, and she never leaves his side, not once. They do not speak, though both know they are awake. They only lay awake, comforting each other silently, mourning the loss of their child that could have been.

* * *

The first question comes at nearly ten the next morning.

"What would you have done? If the baby were still happening? If I hadn't... miscarried?"

"I thought that was obvious. Apparently, you thought the opposite. I would have cared for it immensely, raised it myself if I had to. I would have loved it like it was the only thing that mattered. Though, of course... you would matter, too."

"I see."

"I mean... I was honestly hoping... I don't know. Maybe we could have been together. Both of us out of the hospital. The baby comes along, and we just sort of... stick together. Raise it together. It could have been a nice transition into... being together. D'you know what I mean?"

"Yeah. I think... I'd been thinking the same thing, as well. I mean. When I told you the baby was yours... you didn't exactly seem pleased."

"I wasn't pleased because I'd assumed it was Blaise's."

"You thought wrong. It was yours, always... Blaise and I were never like that. We broke things off, we always knew we were really just good friends. Nothing between us."

"I see."

"Would you really have wanted to be with me?" She was facing him now, sweeping a bit of his platinum hair behind his ears. It had grown a little shaggy in the weeks previous, and with no hair gel in sight, it was a mess. She smiled - she enjoyed seeing him like this, nobody ever really got to.

"More than anything. I mean... just as much as I wanted our child, I wanted you. It was odd, this balance... like I wanted to be with you and no one but, until I knew you it was my child, and then... neither took precedence. You were both equally in charge of my heart."

"I see."

"I still want to be with you, you know. Child or not."

There was no answer. Not for five minutes, not for twenty.

"Draco, I... I have to go. I'm on shift in twenty. They should release you." She kissed his cheek, rising from their bed and leaving the room silently.

But he never answered, either. Her lack of answer spoke for itself, as far as he was concerned. She was looking for parental support, and perhaps someone to help raise her child. She had never been looking for him, especially after she'd already found him.

* * *

How stupid could she have been? She'd been waiting for an opportunity to express how she felt for _weeks_ , and had finally gotten it... and frozen up. In all honesty, she'd wanted to be with Draco before she even found out she was pregnant. She'd been seeing the feelings come on for weeks, and hadn't done anything to stop it at all - aiding it along, in fact. She'd been falling for him this whole time. And she'd been letting herself.

As soon as it dawned on her, two hours after she'd left him, she turned on her heels and ran. She had to find him, before they let him go. He'd think she didn't really want to be with him, which was the opposite of the truth. She couldn't cross the hallways fast enough. She finds his room number, shoulders the door open...

And finds it empty. He was already gone. She wouldn't hear from him again that day, or for two entire weeks after that, by which time she had to take matters into her own hands.


	15. Chapter 15

She knocks twice, no answer.

Knocks again. Nothing.

"Draco. I know you've probably put up surveillance. I know you can hear and or see me right this second."

Silence. But she knows he's there.

"Draco Malfoy I will sit in front of your door as long as I need to before you open up. I will not leave."

There was a bump from just inside the door, and then a crash. She heard muttering, and that too-familiar voice saying 'shit' as loudly as anything else.

"You've shown yourself. Open up, please."

The door opened a crack. "How did you find me?"

"Hospital records finally changed. It showed your newest address the second I told it to re-check itself."

"I hate magic."

"No, you don't. And you don't hate me either, so please come let me talk to you."

He opened the door, but didn't move to let her in. "What do you want?"

"You."

"Too late. You had that chance. I told you I wanted to be with you anyway and you said nothing back. You left. I told you all about those stupid dreams and you crushed them. You don't want me."

"I do!"

"You don't, or you wouldn't have been with Blaise all last week."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Five days out of seven last week, Blaise - unaware of what has most recently transpired between us - replied to a text message or voicemail from me saying that he had been busy with you."

"Well yes, but... Draco..."

"What? Five days, Hermione. Out of just those last seven. Where were you the previous seven?"

"Looking for you, of course! You disappeared, didn't even wait to see me before you got discharged..."

" _I waited nine days in that hospital room._ Don't tell me I didn't wait. I waited. I found out. I confessed. _You_ left."

"Not like that, I... I was scared!"

"And I wasn't? Blimey, Hermione, I'd just confessed to you something I've never told a soul, nobody in my entire life."

She was silent. She hadn't seen this coming - not like this.

"Look, Hermione. You're happy. The pictures in the papers prove that. You've got Blaise. I told you I'd find you someone. I told you I'd find you happiness - Blaise makes you happy. My job here is done."

"I see. And if I'm not happy?"

"You're laughing and smiling like a pretty good actress in those pictures, then. But honestly - he's handsome, he's rich, he cares about you and dotes on you. He actually listens to what you say. Women would kill for that. And woman would love that."

"If that woman were dating him, perhaps."

"And you're not?"

She stared blankly at him for a moment. Was he really this daft? Was he not seeing what she was really here for? She supposed she couldn't really make him see, either way. Even if she tried to tell him, at this point, he'd think she was lying. She'd lost quite a bit of his trust by not telling him sooner. That was her own fault. He was hurt.

"I'm leaving, now. If you want to hear about me, fine, go talk to Blaise. He'll tell you himself we're not dating, we're just friends. But I doubt you'll take it like that from me." She apparated on the spot, leaving him wondering why he'd opened his door to her in the first place.

* * *

"Draco. I'm not leaving any more messages after this. It's me again, it's Blaise. Look, you haven't been out of the new place in weeks. You need to get out. It's time. I understand you're upset, but you've got to get a move on. I'm sending a car for you... in an hour. At nine, I'm having a little soiree at the lounge. Dress up a little. Wear the green shirt. I'll see you then."

Damn. He couldn't really avoid Blaise if he was going to send a car - refusing to go would just be rude. And tacky. Grudgingly, he rose and showered, dressed and did his hair. Blaise had been right. He hadn't been out of the new apartment in weeks, and it was not fitting. His already pale skin was nearly translucent. His kitchen was a mess. Everything was a mess. It had been a rough month, hadn't it? Flicking his wand around the place to spruce it up a bit, Draco crossed over into his kitchen, sat down with a cup of coffee still warm from the pot, and waited for the car. He'd worn the green shirt, and the stupid pants, and the stupid shoes. He'd done his hair and washed his face and brushed his teeth. Good. But that was about it.

When the car pulled up at eight-thirty sharp, just in time to cross town and get to the lounge, Draco briefly considered again not even going. What was the point? Seeing people he may have gone to school with, or people Blaise was working with, or random people from about the city? Why? In the end, though, he got into the car. He owed Blaise something like that, at least. The thirty minute trip seemed much shorter - Draco's head was full of thoughts. And when he arrived and stepped inside, he was immediately made aware of the fact that at least one of the possible scenarios he'd dreamed up in his head were true.

She was standing with a crowd of people in a corner. And she was laughing.

He hadn't seen her since she'd shown up on his doorstep, trying to talk some sense into him. And yet here she was, in a simple cocktail dress above her knees, made of pale gold silk, black shoes, and that hair. That _stupid_ hair.

"Draco. Nice of you to show up." Blaise's hand was on his shoulder, and one look at his taller, darker friend told Draco he was grinning like a mad man. It was a trap, damn him. "Hermione looks lovely, don't you think?"

"What's going on here?"

"You have two choices, Draco. You go over there and you talk to her and make awkward chat and you change things. Or you walk out of this door right now and don't try to get back together with her, ever. The choice is yours."

"Who says the choice is yours to give?"

"She does. She just doesn't know you're here yet. Care to walk over? I'll make a few introductions..."

Numbly, Draco allowed Blaise to steer him by the shoulder to Hermione's group, where she was currently describing an accident in the mediwitch breakroom including Dragon's blood and chicken livers.

"It was revolting. A terrible prank gone wrong. I thought I'd be sick on the spot." The others in the group laughed, and perhaps Draco was the only one who realized the little two-second break she took - her smile fell, her eyes closed, and then she was back on the scene, launching into her next story - sort of.

"Beg your pardon, I've brought over my special guest for the night. Everyone, Draco Malfoy... recently released from Hermione's very hospital after being brutally attacked in an alleyway. Cursed and broken up, he was... until Hermione put him straight."

And wasn't that the truest thing ever? Broken up, until Hermione fixed him up. Ugh. He lifted a hand, waving slightly, letting his eyes pass over Hermione for an infinitesimal moment. She was breathtakingly beautiful. And she looked utterly confused.

"Hermione."

"Draco, I..."

"Everyone, I see you've met Hermione... a dear friend of mine, and the Healer who's been helping me devise a plan to get back into top shape by next season. Twice a week she's training me. Sometimes up to five times a week." He glanced over at Draco while he said this, as if making a point. "She sits there idly at the gym while I work out, giving me pointers, and then we go out for dinner, just friends." A conversation blossomed about benefits of working out during the day versus at night, and while that went on, Draco stood slack mouthed and confused. He'd hired her as his trainer? _That_ was why she'd been with him so much. They'd been working out. Nothing more. Gods, he felt stupid...

* * *

"Hermione."

Nothing.

" _'Mione_."

"Hmm?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for almost a minute - and it's not the crowd." Harry looked at her with wide eyes, curious. The waiter arrived with their lunches. "What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing, Harry, just a little tired. I had my follow up appointment today. Just a little tired."

"That's a lie and you and I both know it."

"Harry, don't..."

"Ever since you and Draco got into that stupid fight, you've been all moody and distant. Why?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Lying."

"Harry..."

"Does it have anything to do with the fact that you may have felt more for him than you let on?"

"Harry, please..."

"We all suspected it, Hermione. Anyone who's seen you and knows, we all did. Did you love him?"

"I can't have loved him! We only spent three months together, and we only admitted feelings for each other two months ago. We only... it was only two months. I can't love him."

"Yeah? Then how do you explain that since you haven't been seeing him, you've been miserable? That you've been crying all the time and you won't leave your flat unless I or Blaise drag you out?"

"It's... it's the combination of things Harry, you know I didn't just lose Draco..."

"No, and you may have..." he lowered his voice now, careful to keep anyone in the surrounding area from hearing. "You may have lost the child. But what's really upsetting you about it? You could have a child with anyone. You could get one implanted. I don't think it was the baby so much as who you were having the baby with."

In that moment, it dawned on her. She wasn't over Draco - never had been. And the depression wasn't so much over the loss of the child, as the loss of it's father.

"Oh, shit."

"Yes, oh shit. Hermione, you're not you lately. And if it's going to take you being with Draco to be you again, then so be it. But you don't smile, you don't laugh, you haven't made a single joke about my hair or my glasses or anything else... where are you? Or is that part of you, with him?"

It took everything in her not to cry. "I think... I think I might have loved him."

"Loved? Or love."

"Love. Present. Oh, Merlin... why."

"Because. We can't really control who we fall for."

"Obviously."

"And you fell for Malfoy. And that... that's that. You're going to have to find him and deal with that."

"I saw him last night. Blaise... Blaise brought him to the lounge, I think he was trying to set us up again. We barely spoke, the whole night. He wouldn't look at me. I tried making other conversation..."

"And honestly, he probably thought you were shutting him out. You're pretty good at that. Hermione, just... you know what you want to do. So do it."

"Harry Potter I have never been so mad at you than I am right now."

"Then I've done my job. Congratulations, Hermione, you're in love."

"Bugger off."


	16. Chapter 16

Fall had come and gone, the mild coolness of the Autumn breezes having given way to the sleet, the snow, and the rain. It was a dismal sight, when taken from the window of her apartment - families, children, and lovers, all walking down the streets holding hands, laughing, catching snowflakes on their tongues. She could be out there. She could be out there... with him. If he'd stop being so bloody stubborn.

She'd called seven times. Blaise had stopped by and called at least a dozen. It had been nearly four full weeks since they'd last seen him, and two weeks since she'd last been able to get a hold of Blaise. She was tired of waiting - it was time to find out what in the heck was going on, and how to save things. She dialed Blaise's number again, and for once - he picked up.

"Zabini."

"Good, you're there. Have you found him?"

"I... yes."

"And? Why didn't you call me? I've been looking for him for weeks!"

"It's... he's not in a good place right now."

"I don't understand. Where is he?"

There was a pause on the line, as if Blaise were peeking around to find Draco's exact location. "Currently, he's actually wrapped 'round his toilet, mumbling something about..." Another pause. "About you, again."

"Pardon me?"

"You heard me."

"He's _drunk_ , isn't he?"

"Positively hammered. Yes."

"That idiot!"

"Yes, probably."

"It's nine in the morning! How is he still drunk?"

"You should have seen him last night... he couldn't walk properly. I half-carried him to his bed. He threw up in his bed. I deposited him by the toilet and he's been there since."

"When did you get in?"

"Four? Five? Something. We started at the lounge... moved to his old favorite pub. Then this dive bar on the edge of town with really excellent chips."

"Chips?"

"Yes, chips. Hermione, chips are really worth it."

"If he's gotten alcohol poisoning, I'm going to kill you."

"He hasn't. Checked him out... it's more of an emotional thing. He's been on a bender for two weeks, actually. That's where I've been, by the way. Here. Making sure he doesn't off himself, intentionally or otherwise."

"And you didn't think to, I don't know, call me? Send me a text message? Anything? I hadn't heard from either of you. I've been worried sick, not to mention irritated, and..."

"And no, I didn't. That's... my apologies. I should have let you know."

"Yes. You should have. Now, are you going to send a car, or should I drive?"

"Neither. He's... trust me, Hermione. You don't want to see him like this."

"I know where he lives, I could..."

"No, you don't. The place he put on his hospital records is an old estate of his family's. He's been in a flat not too far from yours since he left the hospital."

"You're joking."

"Not at all. And you're not coming over. I'm hanging up now. Don't go mad. If you start to... call Harry. He knows."

"He's known this entire time?"

"He's the one who helped Draco find the flat. He wanted it to be close to yours... we're not entirely sure why yet."

"Harry was in on this."

"Potter's never been a good liar. Have you talked to him?"

"No, probably because he knows he's a terrible liar and knew he'd give something away. I'll call him. Blaise?"

"Yes?"

"I'm charging you for the sessions you missed these last two weeks. And the next two weeks. And I better never pay for a drink again as long as I live."

"Done. Bye, Hermione."

The line went dead. Now, instead of one man frustrating her, she had three - her client and friend, the man she loved, and her best friend in the entire world. Excellent.

She clicked off the call and dialed another number directly afterwards. It was one she knew by heart. While it rang, she walked into her kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine she'd been saving for a day she thought she might need a glass. Today, she didn't bother with a glass. She'd let it air out for a few minutes and then drink straight from the bottle.

"Hermione... hello."

"Harry you have exactly fifteen seconds to apparate into my sitting room."

"I'm in the shower..."

"Fifteen seconds!" She shut her phone, fuming mad. She couldn't ever stay mad at him, but she could try. Twenty seconds later, he was in a bathrobe, clutching jeans and a t-shirt to himself, grinning like a child who'd just been caught doing something bad. There was still shampoo suds on his ears and shoulders, as if he hadn't even taken time to rinse himself fully. He probably hadn't.

"Hermione, I can explain..."

"You told him where my flat was, and helped him find a place close."

"I did."

"Why? And why didn't you tell me?"

"It's complicated. And he told me not to."

"And you're going to not tell me... your best friend... over Draco? Who's being an idiot?"

Harry seemed to contemplate this momentarily before nodding. "Yeah. Yeah I am. He's got... he's got plans, I think."

"Harry... you should probably run."

"The closet locks, right? I can hide in there?"

"If you don't want to be hexed, yes. Or the bathroom. You can finish your shower if you do it quickly."

"Right. Do I get a head start?"

"Harry..."

"Taking that as a no..." he turned to the right, sprinting down her hallway while trying not to lose his towel. The ridiculousness of the sight had her laughing, but didn't even make a dent in her frustration with him. She walked into the kitchen, picked up the bottle, and decided to use a glass after all. Laughing at her best friend had calmed her down slightly. Her first glass was done in under a minute, and when Harry came out sheepishly fifteen minutes later, she was on her third.

"Potter."

"Oh, don't start the last name business on me, Hermione. What? Was I supposed to tell you I was helping Draco find a flat near yours? You'd have gone mental."

"If you can't tell, I already did. Fifteen seconds?"

"Right. I'm here. And I can explain."

She raised her eyebrows and tilted back her glass, finishing the contents as if to say, 'explain.'

"He's got... he's got a plan."

"Really? And what is this plan?"

"Well, he's got to finish getting better first. Obviously you know, he's still in bad condition..."

"I'm his healer. I know this."

"Well, he's switching healers, for the time being. He's got some sort of... thing. I don't know! He won't tell me anything. I think he knows I'd tell you in an instant." Harry rushed his hands up to his face, shaking his head. "He knows you'd know the minute I know!"

"I'm going to pretend I took the time to make sense of that. Wine?"

"Got anything stronger?"

"Harry..."

"Right. In the cupboard." He winked at her, walking into her kitchen and opening up a bottle of firewhiskey. "Got any clean glasses?"

"I haven't done dishes lately... you can use a wine glass, if you wish."

"I found something better."

He walked out with an old blue plastic cup in his hand - a cup, she believed, she'd had since she was living with her parents, pre-Hogwarts ages. "Very grown up, Harry. Sophisticated."

"I won't break it if I knock it over."

"And you've got a habit for that, I know... now come on, tell me what you know."

"I know he's seeing your supervisor - Rathbone - and that he knows you've taken a few weeks off. I know he's been on a major bender for the last two weeks, and Blaise has been taking care of him and avoiding your questions like the plague. He's going to be resting at least another few weeks. He won't talk much about you. Or the... the b-a-b-y."

"You don't have to spell it out Harry, I'm the only other one here."

"Right. Blaise and I have come to spelling it... Draco just tunes out."

"You're getting on with Blaise, then?"

"He's not a terrible person."

"You used to think he was."

"I despised Malfoy, as well. But clearly, he's changed. You taught me that."

"That I did, for some awful reason. I just..."

"Hmm?"

"I want to see him, so badly. With every fiber of my being, I want to see his stupid hair and that stupid smirk and those eyes..."

"Mushy love things, yes. Love does that to you."

"It's been nearly three weeks now since we've talked."

"And you want to talk. To...?"

"To be with him." She knew it when she said it - a warmth passed through her, and she smiled. "You were probably right. I think, somehow, that I love him."

"At least you'll finally admit it. Last time I saw you, at dinner..."

"I'll still tell you to bugger off."

"Good. Fine. You love Draco Malfoy. That's enough for me."

"You're an arse."

"You're in looooove."

"Harry!"

"You lurrrve him. So much."

"I'm going to take that little blue cup away so fast..."

"I can run faster."

"I can hex harder."

"Never mind."

The two paused, looking briefly at each other and then laughing. How ridiculous was their situation?

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"I could send him a text message."

"Have you tried yet?"

"No. I've left voicemails but I'm not sure he's even checked them."

"By all means, text away then."

She retrieved her phone from the kitchen, found his name, and typed out a little message.

_I miss you. And I hate this space between us. Please, talk to me. I don't know what you're up to but we need to talk._

She sat back down beside Harry and sighed. "This is just sad. I'm sad."

"You're drunk. You've nearly finished a bottle of wine in under forty minutes."

"Shut it."

"Never."

"Why?"

"Because you're my best friend, Hermione." He paused to take a drink, watching her the whole time. "And that means I get every license in the world to make fun of you."

She glared at him, but couldn't help smiling again. Why was he always so bloody _right_? "Fine."

"Fine. And let Draco do what he needs to do. He's got plans, let him take care of them. And I'll push him along. I know you don't like waiting."

"Not at all. Thanks, Harry... I just... I guess it's just weird, that I know I love him now, but he's not even speaking to me."

Harry stood, finishing his glass and nodding. "He'll come to you eventually. I'd best be off, I've got a project due early in the morning for work... can't waste time."

"Thanks for coming by. Even if it was during a shower."

"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't." The pair laughed, and just before Harry turned to apparate, the display on Hermione's phone lit up. _Draco Malfoy._

Harry winked, and shook his head. "I told you he'd come to you." And then with a crack, he was gone, and Hermione was left with her phone in her hands and a text message on her screen.

_I miss you more than you know. I'm sorry for how I acted the other day - that's not me anymore, I'm trying to prove that to you. I'm not in a good place right now but I'll see you when I can. We'll call it a surprise. Hope you're well._

Yeah, she was well. Except when she was worried sick about him. With a last glass, the bottle of wine was finished, and Hermione cleaned up from her dinner that night and sat down to watch a film on TV. At least she had that.


	17. Chapter 17

"She's a bloody idiot if she thinks I'll admit that now."

"Draco..."

"No! She's... god, she called though?"

"She showed up at your flat twice. She threatened to hex Potter if he didn't tell her where it was."

"Never knew her to be one to resort to violence. Wait, that's a lie. She hit me, remember? Third year."

"I remember. Your jaw was swollen for days, and Pomfrey wouldn't shrink it. Said you deserved it."

"She was right, you know." Draco reached up to run his fingertips over his jaw. So many years ago... he looked at Blaise. "And what about you then? How often does she call? Does she want to see me?"

"Naturally, she's actually pretty desperate to see you." Draco grinned at this, but Blaise did not - his grimace was stuck on his face. "No. Not funny. Mostly because she's halfway to strangling you. You were an ass to her, Draco. You really... you really hurt her. And it pained me, as well."

Draco realized once again the level to which Blaise cared about Hermione - they were good friends, to say the least, and it had partially been because of his failed setup to get them together, that he'd gotten to be with Hermione at all. He hadn't seen her in a little over three months now, and it was driving him practically insane. But he was stubborn - he knew that - and it had been his downfall. He doubted she still loved him, which was why he'd so profusely denied to Blaise the fact that he might admit that he was still completely in love with her, to her face.

"When will you see her next?"

"There's a party at the lounge - for her birthday, actually. She told me to invite you, though there didn't seem to be much gusto behind it. If you want her, Draco, you're really going to have to try for her. And she's not easily won."

"I'm aware."

"We all are. She's a tough one."

"When is it?"

"Later tonight - nine sharp. I'll have a car come get you?"

"It's six now."

"Then you should probably shower and get something to eat."

"No time for food. I've got to shower, and do my hair, and..." Blaise laughed at him, standing from the couch and shaking his head.

"I'm just about to get ready. I'll meet you there? I'll be there as early as eight, so come when you can. The car will arrive early."

"Thanks. And Blaise?"

"Yes, Drake?"

"Do you really think I still have a chance? At, you know... Hermione, and her love, and all of it?"

Blaise let his face fell from his usual smirk into a soft look - care, and understanding. "If anyone has a chance at her heart Draco, it's you. And you, in most eyes, least deserve it. So you're going to really have to step it up tonight. I'm talking public confession of your love, giant apology, the works."

Draco nodded. "Thanks. I'll... I'll see you later."

Blaise gave Draco a little salute, and with a crack, he was gone. Draco was instantly off the couch and heading for his bathroom, wanting to be ready and there as soon as humanly possible. This was it. This was his chance. And he wasn't going to mess this one up again.

* * *

Hermione lifted her hands to put in the finishing touches - a pair of diamond drop earrings that Blaise had given her for her birthday, to match the necklace she'd bought herself. It was a thoughtful gift, really, and they were quite beautiful - even if the diamonds that hung there were bigger than the one she bought for herself. They caught the light just right, and Hermione hoped they might entrance someone in particular, someone who she only had a sliver of hope left for. It had been three months. Three months and seventeen days, actually, by her count. And each of them had been hell. She'd cut her hair short, bought new clothes, done everything to try and enliven herself, to make herself feel better - or feel anything at all. It had been so hard to stop crying at one point that she'd taken a week off work. Here it was - Draco Malfoy, her childhood enemy turned patient turned lover turned... whatever he was to her now. Clearly, he might be choosing to be nothing. But Blaise was his best friend, and never hinted towards a decline in Draco's feelings, and so she believed that there might still be a chance.

She took back, admiring herself in the mirror. It was the first time she'd really felt beautiful since everything had happened. Blaise had, along with the earrings, sent her to a designer in the downtown area, who tailored dark, emerald green dress to fit her perfectly. It was form fitting, ruched, and had a slightly sweetheart neckline. It was perhaps a little too short for her tastes, but not so much so that she worried too much about it. she'd paired it with black and silver jewelry and bangles, killer black heels, and the necklace and earrings. Her hair she wore loose, tousled around and fresh looking. She'd loved the short hair - it was like an entirely new personality, and she'd gotten it all from a thirty-five dollar pixie cut in the city.

She grabbed her clutch and her phone, calling downstairs to the driver from the car service, and in just minutes, she found herself entering Blaise's lounge. It was dark, and the enchanted candles and lights hanging about the edges of the ceiling made everything look luxe and sexy. It was a kind of night she needed - and, of course, it was all for her.

"'Mione." She turned to see Harry, who had apparently already been here for a while - there were two empty glasses next to him on the bar. He saw her looking, and shook his head. "One of those is Blaise's. He's in the back, barking orders at the caterer..."

"Caterer?"

"He's having little hors d'oeuvres passed around. Some kind of tuna thing and these weird crisps with things on them. I don't have a clue." The pair laughed, and Harry ordered Hermione a drink, just as she liked. The doors of the club were closed until about nine, when her party began, and Blaise was staying open late to allow the party to go on as long as anyone wanted it to. Hermione wasn't sure how late she'd personally stay, but she'd at least be here until well past one in the morning, and judging from the number of cars sitting in the lot outside, there were plenty of people there to see and mingle with. As if on cue, Blaise stepped in from the kitchen, smiling.

"Hermione! You look absolutely... delicious." He winked at her. "I heard you talking about the hors d'oeuvres Potter. And yes, there's tuna and crisps, but they're much better than he made them sound. There's a prosciutto crostini with fennel slaw, tuna tartare on wontons with wasabi vinaigrette, mango shrimp in endive leaves, various cheese-stuffed figs, mini wontons, and mini tea-smoked chicken lettuce cups with a fantastic honey and lavender sauce."

"Blaise! That's a lot."

"Nothing too much for a friend - and I know the caterer. Lovely woman, lovely food, and a fantastic menu. Care to try a little early?"

"Honestly, I'm too nervous to eat. Did you see how many people are outside?"'

"You are well liked, Hermione." Harry agreed, nodding.

"I suppose. Now, the both of you just... oh goodness. It's time."

Blaise checked his wristwatch and smiled. "That it is. Care for a drink before I open the doors?"

"I'll take whatever will make me feel better."

"Denise, fix Hermione a few After Dark shots. Hermione, it's the thing with the Kahlua you liked so much last time."

"I'll take two."

The bartender served Hermione her shots - the first she took quickly, the second she finished in a few sips. "Alright. Let's start this thing."

* * *

It was crowded, and it had been quite some time since Draco had been in such a dark room that wasn't in his flat. The lounge looked great, and so did all of the people inside - ministry connections, St Mungo's staff, a few friends of Harry's, a few friends of Blaise's, a few friends of Hermione's that Draco didn't quite recognize. But despite seeing everyone else here so far, he hadn't seen the two people he was looking for - First Blaise, then Hermione. He didn't have to look long - there was a firm grip on his shoulder in a matter of seconds.

"You look nice, Draco. Cleaned up a bit."

He was in expensive, dark, semi-slim legged jeans with a black button up shirt rolled to his elbows. His grey eyes stood out beneath his wave of platinum hair, but his eyes were barely focusing.

"Yeah. I figured if I was going to give this a shot, I might as well look decent." He turned to see Blaise wearing a very similar ensemble, but with a deep blue shirt, instead. "Great minds think alike."

"Indeed we do. If you're looking for the birthday girl, she's seated at the bar - will be for another fifteen minutes, too. She's got a keen eye for hors d'oeuvres platters, and also for drinks."

"That's my girl."

"If you play your cards right, yes."

"I need a drink."

"Take a seat at the table in the corner - I'll have Denise bring you a few things."

"Yes, a few... please."

"And I'll have Potter join you. He's got something to say, though he won't say it to me and hasn't mentioned it to Hermione."

"I suppose that'll work. Give me some company."

"You can quit the anti-Potter act. It's because of him your ass is alive right now. If he hadn't have found you at the pub that night..."

"Yeah, I know. My heart was messing up again. Alright, send Harry over." '

He took his seat in the corner and was soon joined by Potter, then by a bottle of fine vodka, mixers, and fresh fruits. He dropped a few blackberries into the glass, muddling them with a spoon she'd left, and topped it with vodka and citrus soda - it was actually pretty good, for looking like a girly drink. Perhaps he'd just have a martini next time. Potter sat across from him and eyed the drink.

"How much did you put in that?"

"Enough."

"Good. I was afraid you were drinking like Hermione, and she's..."

"A total lightweight? A girl drink only sort of woman? Yeah, I know. It's actually quite good."

"It's sparkling."

"It's soda, Potter, get over it."

Harry chuckled, mixing something up for himself. "Are you going to talk to her?"

"Not directly."

"Draco, you can't just..."

"Hush, Potter. I'm going to go up and give a speech."

"Wow. She actually... she actually might like that. You might need to, anyway. She's a little irritated with you."

"And she has every right to be. I know. I just... needed time. I still can't help thinking about..." _About the child._ Harry seemed to pick up the last of his sentence, nodding sadly.

"I was just as sad when I heard. She's always wanted a child. And I think she was actually really happy it was yours, when things happened. I just... she was devastated, when she lost it. She still is. She'd have been..."

"Almost four months along by now. Yeah."

Draco stirred his drink, watching the fizz dance around his spoon. "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think she'll take me back?"

As if on cue, Hermione stood from the bar, and he finally saw her - she looked... incredible. He'd never seen her so radiant. He wanted to go now, to talk to her, but... he didn't want to confront her like that at the party. He wanted her to know he was here and be okay with it before he made his little speech.

"Honestly, Draco, I've just as much a clue as you do. She's a little... quieter about it."

"She's cut off all her hair."

Harry turned, just now noticing that Draco had seen her. "Right, yeah. Takes some getting used to."

"She's smashing. I love it. Brings out her high cheekbones. She's got excellent bone structure, if that child had been born it would have had the face of an angel."

"And the temperament of Lucifer himself." Harry winked, and the pair laughed. Yes, that was probably true. Both he and Hermione had been known to be very irritable, very fast. Neither were good under pressure.

"I'm going to go say hello to her, Draco. And I'm going to tell her you're here, but not where. She might want to see you, she might not. You'll know by the time I come back in a few minutes."

Those few minutes were hell. Hermione's back was to him, and he could tell the instant Harry told her that he was here - she stiffened up a little, just for a moment, and then relaxed again. He could see her nodding - a good sign - and then her attention was wanted by an old friend at the ministry. Harry rejoined Draco at the table, smiling.

"She seemed glad you were here. Told me she was happy you'd shown up, it was a present in itself."

"That doesn't just sound good, that sounds fantastic. I need another drink - a strong one. I've got to get my nerves up for this."

"Good idea."

"Time to mix."

One drink turned into four, though, and Harry had to get Denise to take the tray away before it became five or six or more. It was already nearing midnight, and Harry had informed the host in front with the microphone that Draco would be speaking then.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"What exactly are you going to say?"

"She's a smart girl. I have to... I have to say something that'll win her over."

"Yeah, you do."

"Okay."

"And?"

"Potter, don't pressure me. It'll come to me when I'm up there - I'm an excellent public speaker."

"Yeah?"

"I am actually, it..." His voice fell, and so did his slight smile. "It was mostly formed in my teenage years. Meetings. The like." Harry immediately understood - he had to speak over Death Eaters at times in his past - and nodded, grimly.

"As long as you don't say the things you had to say then, I think we'll be fine." He stood, patting Draco's shoulder. "Are you ready? It's time."

"Shit."

"Yeah, I'm as worried as you are. She'll probably kick my ass for this later, either way."

Draco nodded, laughing. She would. They knew her well. Harry said something to the host, who waved Draco up before getting everyone's attention. Harry took the microphone.

"Attention, please! Attention! As you all know, we're here to celebrate the birthday of my best friend in the world - Miss Hermione Granger. I'd like to say a few words, and then someone else would too." Draco thought, in the pause, that he heard Hermione grumble something, but let it pass. He was nervous. The last drink was hitting him and he could tell he was going to slur a bit. Why had he had this much to drink? Was he a complete idiot?

"There's something about Hermione that we all love - a certain passion for everything she does, on and off the job. She's fierce, compassionate, and loyal. She's the smartest person I know, or have ever known, and has been there for me through... through everything. I honestly don't think I'd have had the courage to do what I did, without her." The audience clapped, remembering Harry's efforts, and he nodded. "But more than that, more than just for me, Hermione is one of the best people I know. In medical school, she spent her free time organizing petitions for house elf rights, and passed so many bills, the Ministry didn't know whether to recruit her or to shut her up." The crowd laughed, and through their heads he could see Hermione standing directly in the center, beaming.

"Hermione Granger - happy birthday. You'll have this year at least, and many more, to torture me with your immeasurable wit and frank honesty. But you'll also have those to be my best friend. I love you, Hermione." He raised his glass in a toast, and so did everyone in the room - including the lounge staff. Draco raised his, toasting briefly with Harry as he stepped off the little platformed stage. The host informed the audience that Draco Malfoy was next to speak, and a sudden murmur settled over the crowd. This time, over the noises, Draco definitely heard her. _Oh, shit._ Those around her laughed, but he saw her smiling - this was good news. As he stepped up on the stage, he saw her smile fall slightly, but not completely.

"Uh... hello, then, everyone. I'm sure most of you know who I am, if you don't, I'm Draco Malfoy - son of a reformed Death Eater, Hogwarts idiot extraordinaire, and the first recipient of Hermione's physical violence - she's got a mean right hook." The crowd roared with laughter, and Draco pointed to the spot on his cheek. So he was slurring a little, they all understood him perfectly well, and he seemed to be alright by the crowd.

"Many of you might not know this, because I prefer to keep my name out of the papers as much as possible, for safety reasons. A little over six months ago, I was disguised and walking through muggle london, enjoying the crisp early spring night. It was a bit cold, and I decided to take a shortcut through an alley to a pub I preferred above all others. It was through this alley that I was brutally attacked by three large men, who used both curses and physical, muggle violence to beat me within an inch of my life. At first, I thought they must have been people who hated me and what was left of my family for what they'd done before defecting in the war. It was a trying time for all, and on behalf of at least myself, I deeply regret my actions. However, my attackers were found to be none other than old Death Eater pals of my fathers - we discovered this a few weeks ago, after a few nights of deeply exhausted occlumency and memory extraction.

"That night, I was moments from death - but the face of an angel stood above me in my last conscious moments. Hermione had been on her way to a restaurant when she saw my body, unmoving, in the alley. She picked up my wand, which she saw had rolled from my hand, and apparated straight to St. Mungo's. It was selfless, heroic, and the best thing anyone has ever done for me, with knowledge of who I am or not.

"Naturally, when she figured out it was me, she was murderously angry - we hadn't spoken since the war, and though she'd heard of my changed alliances, that didn't change everything I'd done to her, all the names and insults I'd called her in school. I was so grateful that she'd saved my life, that I immediately changed towards her. When she left her ex-husband, I offered my empty loft apartment, close to work, for her to stay in. And the use of my - she was glad to hear this - large bathtub and well-paid house elf." He smiled, and she finally allowed him to catch her eye. He grinned, and he could see her fighting a smile.

"Over the next few months, I became absolutely, completely enamored with her. We'd have dinner on her breaks, whatever takeout we wanted. She learned how I liked my coffee and tea, and what sauces I wanted for wontons and noodles of all types. She sat with me, and talked with me, and we... we sort of fell in love."

Draco allowed a pause for the crowd to drink this in, and they did. Hermione watched him, mouth slack, and he nodded at her, continuing.

"Hermione Granger is the best thing that has ever happened to me. For so long, I was in the dark - and only in the glow of her brilliance, did I finally find the light. Hermione Jean Granger, I know I've been a right prat the last few months, and I don't deserve your forgiveness. But I love you now, I love you still, I always will, okay?"

She laughed as those around her turned to her, apparently in shock. "Draco! Say it sober!"

"I... I don't have a draught..."

Blaise shouted from the back of the room. "Denise! Get our boy Draco a Sobering Draught, on the house. We've got some in the back fridge." The bartender returned moments later, tossing Draco a stoppered vial, which he threw back into his mouth and swallowed in one. In just a few seconds, his mind was completely clear, and he was more energized than he'd been in months.

"I'll say it again, Hermione - a million times, if that's what it takes for you to believe me. Through everything - through... through our losses. And our late nights and early mornings. And through you saving my arse a hundred times and telling me to 'stop throwing bloody telephones across the damned room before I caused another heart stoppage'. And through takeout, and you showing up at my door, and through you threatening to hex both of our best friends to try and get to see me." As he spoke, he stepped down from the stage, walking towards her. People parted on either side, staring and letting him through. He'd left the microphone at the front now, and the only person who heard him next was Hermione herself, as he leaned in close, wrapping his arms around her waist. When hers reflexively rose to encircle his neck, and stayed there, he knew he was safe.

"I love you. I do. I always will. And I'd kill - but not literally - for another chance with you. You've been haunting my dreams, and driving me insane and then back to sanity again. Please, Hermione, just..."

"Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you shut up already?" And before he could say another word, she kissed him full on the mouth, in front of all in attendance. A wild round of cheers and applause met them, and he felt fire spreading through to the tips of his fingers and toes, and then ice, making him shiver in her presence. When they separated, Blaise called for a round of expensive champagne, on the house, and that brought on another cheer, covering the sound of Draco's voice again to all but Hermione.

"You believed in me when no one else did. You saw through my past, to my present and our future. I want to be with you until I take my dying breath."

"Let's hope you don't have any more complications then, and that's a long, long way from now..."


	18. Chapter 18

"I still think Potter shouldn't be bringing the Weaselette. She's not exactly keen on the idea of us being together as it is."

"Nonsense, Draco. Ginny's my friend. And while she may not be as happy as she would have been had I stayed with Ron... she's just happy I'm happy."

Draco rolled his eyes, leaning back against the kitchen counter. He'd long since sold off both flats, purchasing a newer, larger one in the center of the city. There were three bedrooms. This meant progress on the topic they'd avoided for nearly a year.

"Like she was happy about our engagement. Right. And like she was so overjoyed about our marriage that she couldn't even be bothered to attend."

"Draco... I was married to her brother. While we were very young, it still meant something to them. And even Ron told her to come to the wedding, to support me."

"He would. Becoming as noble as Potter, then."

"He's just trying to be nice... we were best friends for over a decade, you know."

She was right. Ron had been her best friend, her boyfriend, her husband, and then... well, now he was her ex-all of those things. They were on friendly terms, if you could call polite silence and a few exchanged words friendly at all. If Draco had any say, he'd flat out tell her that Ron was being a stubborn, regretful prat who didn't want to see her married to Draco at all. But the wedding had passed, and with it went some of Draco's severe dislike for the ginger and his clan. After all, it was hard thinking so negatively about someone who had messed up badly enough to give Draco himself the chance with Hermione. For an idiot, the guy wasn't so terrible after all.

Just following Draco's speech at Hermione's birthday, the pair became engaged. Since most of the wizarding world hadn't known the two were involved to begin with, it came as quite a shock to anyone who hadn't been involved. Their engagement was short, Draco paid for a wedding that came six months later, with three hundred guests in attendance. Seven of them were Draco's. Hermione had gone a little overboard on the guest list, perhaps, but it was Draco's highest priority to give her whatever the hell she'd wanted for this wedding. You only got married once, you know. Or twice, in her case. Whichever.

They'd been married in early spring, and by summer the news had died down. People could only remain shocked for so long. The wedding was talked about in papers and magazines for months. Draco's heart had continued to give him slight problems, but none serious enough to cause alarm. He was on medication and in physical therapy for the damage to his legs. He was assigned a muggle doctor for that, by Hermione's orders, and he thought he'd never un-see the smug look on her face when Draco actually really took to the old man. Muggles... weren't so bad after all.

"Back to the list. Potter and Ginny. Blaise and his date, whoever that is. Healer Rathbone and his wife. My old nurse and her boyfriend. You know McGonagall will throw a fit if she doesn't hear the news first..."

Draco could see Hermione grimace. Right. Minerva. Since Hermione had been promoted once more to head of her department, she'd seen Minerva in four times. She'd suffered some curse damage in the first war and had to go through therapy once a month for it. Initially, she hadn't been very enthused about the idea of Hermione and Draco together at all, let alone married. She'd believed in him, though, when others hadn't, and eventually their nuptials grew on her. She'd even sent them a toaster that told them in seven languages when their toast was perfectly golden. Draco had used it every morning since.

"She'd probably hurt us. We'd never hear the end of it."

"I can hear her now, 'Mione... _'You two invited everyone outside of Hogwarts besides me!"_ Old bat..."

The pair laughed, and Hermione duplicated the small invitation for the dinner party, writing Minerva's full name on the folded outside. She tied the letter to the rest and then tied them all to the leg of Draco's large barn owl, Scorpius. The owl took flight, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "I told them all to start arriving around seven. That means Harry will be here at five with wine, looking for crackers, and Blaise will show up at ten with more wine, looking for cake."

"Precisely. Have you thought about how you're going to break the news to everyone?"

"I thought I might just do it very vaguely at first. Clearly no wine. If someone guesses ahead of time, I'll let them yell it out. If not, I'll propose a toast at dessert and we'll announce it then, together."

"I really do hope it doesn't get that cheesy."

"It will. And everyone will love it."

Draco groaned, pushing himself off the counter and walking across to where Hermione stood, by the window.

"Fine. But try and make it a little more obvious beforehand. Play with them. Act like you're feeling sick but aren't bothered by it. Rest your hand just there."

He placed his hand over her lower abdomen and didn't fight the urge to smile. They'd been hoping this would come along. After a few months of casting contraceptive charms, the pair had simply stopped, no discussion. They were ready to try again. It had only taken three weeks for Hermione to conceive, and they were pregnant again. She was a little over eleven weeks along. When Draco heard her scream from the bathroom, he had nearly given himself a heart attack running to see what was the matter. She had come out with a little plastic white stick, very clearly positive, crying and babbling on about a bigger apartment and a baby's room and tiny shoes. He'd been awestruck. A child. His first reaction was very nearly terror, dread. The first time he'd gotten her pregnant had not ended well. This time, though, they'd been given a second chance. This was their new start. He wondered if Hermione would let the baby have the name of a constellation, but thought that maybe it wasn't such a great idea anyway. He might not want to carry on any old Malfoy traditions. Any at all.

Christmas was fast approaching and this dinner party was designed to celebrate that. The guests didn't know what else would be announced. The swell of emotion he got whenever he thought about their child, their future... it was enough to bring him to tears. He'd been through so much in his previous life. This one was different. This time, there was no fear, no rage. There was only love, and hope, and peace.

"Draco?"

He sniffed. "Hmm?"

"You're crying."

"Shut. Up. Nobody hears about this."

The pair laughed, and Draco leaned in to kiss his wife just once on the lips. He pulled back and took in her smiling face, remembering all that they'd been through before, and looking forward to all that they'd go through in the future, together.


End file.
